Friends with Benefits
by whatshouldntbe
Summary: Jim doesn't end up at Starfleet (until she does). girl!Kirk/Bones
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Friends with Benefits

**Author: **whatshouldntbe

**Fandom: **Reboot XI/AU

**Universe/Series:** Part of the '_What Shouldn't Be_' series

**Rating: **R (NC-17 over all)

**Word count: **11000+ for this part, Indefinite so far

**Disclaimer:** I own Star Trek as much as I own the Sun, which means not at all.

**Warnings: **always!girl Kirk, angst, action, language, infidelity, rom-com humor, sexual situations, violence, possible amateur world-building

**Summary: **Jim doesn't end up at Starfleet.

**;**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Uncle Frank isn't very smart. But Jim is. She's smarter than half of the people in Riverside. Or even in all of Iowa. Of course she's never been any further than the borders of Riverside, and so she can only assume she is. And she thinks about it all the time. Leaving that is; just to find out for sure who else is out there. She wants to know what the world has to offer her when this hellhole of a farm Uncle Frank calls home only offers her misery. Jim admits to being wild like a caged animal. Hell, she's a Kirk. It comes with the territory. It's probably why she can't identify with all the other kids her age. She likes to act out when Uncle Frank pushes her too far. Just one word about her parents is all it takes these days, and he knows that.

James Tiberius Kirk is already a thirteen-year-old delinquent because of that man.

Can't be helped, really. Puberty is taking over, pumping unbridled adrenaline and hormones through her veins. She's bleeding from places she'd rather not bleed from and has no one to talk about it to. The anger from absent parents curls deep within her and drives her to lash out at the world, trying to serve back the unfair hand in life she's been dealt. It's so goddamn unfair sometimes. As she gets older, she gets angrier, more questioning. Why did her dad have to be a hero? Why did her mom leave her behind? Why the hell was she named after men she barely knew?

Sometimes Jim would like to believe that maybe her parents didn't know she'd be a girl. Or perhaps they had some sort of foresight for her personality. Maybe they saw her in her dark blue overalls, rolling around on the ground, throwing untamed punches at Johnny, the boy who _can not _keep his goddamn hands to himself, in the middle of recess for all to see; trying to prove herself (to them) that's she not just some pretty pig-tailed girl who tolerates being doted on.

Maybe they knew she was the kind of girl who likes to pick up old parts from the junkyard so that she can start putting together some mode of transportation for herself. When she was seven she had made her own scooter. When she was ten it evolved into a bicycle. And now she was working on building her own motorized bike. The building for it is a little early. She wont be able to ride it tills she's sixteen, but she'd rather start now and have something to look forward to. No more Uncle Frank lugging her around when he damn well pleased.

The more Jim thought on these things, the more she at ease with the name she felt. And then she was glad she bore the name. It was a good strong name to have, despite the lack of what it said she should have between her legs. It didn't matter. Because she'd rather not be a Pam or some Suzy Q. People will take one look at her and take in the pretty blue eyes, the long corn-colored hair, those pouty pink lips and the golden tan of her skin, and they would just coo and fawn all over her. Then when she told them her name (James Tiberius Kirk) and they saw that determined and hard look in her eye, recognized that last name, they fumbled and thought twice, trying to figure her out and coming to no conclusion. And then she'll open those pouty pink lips, reveal just a little of her genius, and _crush_ them, right along with their idiotic preconceived notions.

Why was it so hard to believe that the beautiful blonde girl with sky blue eyes was actually intelligent, and that her life goals did not include being some kind of shallow model? Good looks, though helpful at times, didn't earn her a whole lot of respect.

But that's the way of things. Humans can't seem to understand her. Maybe that's why she finds herself in her own company instead of the company of others. Jim will spend hours sitting on top of the roof of the house while Uncle Frank drinks himself into a stupor. As he thumps around in the living room, cursing and knocking over furniture, probably looking for her, his personal punching bag.

She'll lie back on that roof and ignore all the angered grunts and shouts and nasty little tricks he tries to use to goad her into coming out so he can have some fun. She'll let down her hair up here, literally as well as metaphorically, because it's the only place where she feels comfortable. She knows it's strange to wear your hair in a ponytail all the time, at least, that's what all the other girls say. They don't understand, and often say that if they had 'such nice long hair', they'd do all sorts of things with it. Jim doesn't. She can't explain why she refuses to let her hair down in the presence of others, or why she keeps it in the same ponytail everyday. Probably one of those defense mechanisms she's read about. She does like to read, to learn.

She refuses to skip a grade; doesn't need people to talk about her more than they already do. She's mostly self-taught anyway. Sometimes she spends hours at the library after school, just so she won't have to go home right away, and just read.

She'll read and read so that when she's forced to come home, she'll have hours of subject matter to think about, to distract her when she eats whatever slop of food Uncle Frank is kind enough to make for her. Then quickly she'll make her way up to the roof. She'll lay back and watch the stars, feeling a twinge in her heart that tells her that up there is where she really belongs, not down here. Gravity's been unkind to her, arresting her to the soil of Earth, when all she wants to do is float away. Maybe somewhere up there, her mother can be found. It's wishful thinking; she knows the truth of it all. Uncle Franck never lets her forget that she's not wanted. By anyone on this planet.

So she can't be blamed for thinking her happiness lies with the stars.

_Crash._

"…you hiding at you little shit? Come out here!"

_Thump. Thump. Crash._

Jim sighs and rolls over onto her side as her uncle breaks through the haze of her thoughts. The wind picks up a little and plays with the long waves of her blonde hair, sometimes pushing it over her cheek and towards the corner of eyes like a golden curtain. She kind of hopes Uncle Frank will trip and crack his head open on a piece of furniture. She doesn't wish for him to die, no, unfortunately he_ is_ all she's got left. She just needs him incapacitated for a few days.

_CRASH._

"…little bitch. I'll sell that piece of junk car, you just wait. Daddy's not here to stop me now is? Sell it, make a nice penny. Hm? What do you say Jimbo? How much do you think I can get for a legend's pretty little corvette?"

_CRASH._

Jim sits up immediately, no longer able to ignore her raving uncle. He wouldn't dare. He wouldn't _dare._

_CRASH._

And then Jim remembers all those times, all those strange faces that came and went. All of them huddled around her father's car with uncle Frank, gazes assessing, sizing the worth of it. Jim hadn't thought much of it at the time. Thought her stupid uncle was just showing off. He does it all the time. With her, with the car, with anything that can make him seem less of a worthless pile of garbage.

_THUMPTHUMPCRASH._

"Got a good little deal for it, did I mention? Got a guy who's coming in the morning Jimmy. Gonna come and get it. Maybe I oughta buy you a nice little doll? Give you a percentage of what I get. Was your dad's car after all, you should get something shouldn't ya Jimmy?" It's obvious he's stumbling around in her room now, trashing it with the hand that isn't holding the bottle of liquor. It's fine. She's learned never to keep anything important in her room, in the house.

_CRASH. THUMP. THUMP._

Ice cold fire and rage, so much _rage _flutters through her veins. He's gone too far this time. Too far.

When Uncle Frank finally passes out in the bathroom, Jim spends the rest of the night cleaning the house and plotting.

So really, she can't be blamed when she rises with the sun the next morning, swipes the keys off of uncle Frank's nightstand and hops in her dad's cherry red corvette. Before she knows it, she's whipping down the road. Minutes later Uncle Frank seems to shake himself into consciousness and realized what's happened. He calls, cursing her and yelling all sorts of unspeakable things, threatening to call her mother and whip her ass so hard she'll see the same stars her dead father did. Jim cuts the line off mid-rant and pops the top, shoving a pair of black sunglasses on her face.

Up ahead there is a boy holding out his thumb in the universal sign for hitchhiking. Jim grins, honking eagerly, waving and laughing out an almost maniacal 'Hey Johnny-boy!' as she swerves past him. She sees his dumbfounded expression in the rearview mirror before its blocked by a state trooper on his bike. Uncle Frank must have called the authorities. And seriously, she's not just gonna pull over when asked to, she's on a roll. She just whips a hard right and continues towards the canyon.

There is a moment where she embodies adrenaline, thinks about staying in the car, going down with it, joining her father in the great beyond. But she's already spun the car to the side, popped open the door and is clawing violently at the edge to keep from going over. Her hair's a mess and there's dirt on her cheeks, jeans and t-shirt. She pulls herself up, grinning ferociously, heavily satisfied and tugs off the glasses, tossing them over her shoulder as the trooper steps down from his bike, asking for her name.

And just like everybody else, she lets him know exactly whom he's dealing with.

888

Uncle Frank is _not pleased_.

How does she know this?

Tarsus IV happens.

The famine happens.

Governor Kodos happens, and then the massacre.

And even when she's safely back on earth sometime later, she'll never talk about it. Never explain why she was able to survive when many others did not. Never could explain how _hungry_ she was, and how it took over, making her so _willing_.

She'll never forgive _Frank _for it. Never.

Nothing will ever undo the horrors she bore witness to.

888

You could even say that she became even more reckless after the fact. Sometimes being so close to death can either settle and subdue you or make you ever more stormier than you were before. Jim had seen these two paths and had taken the stormier road. By the time she's seventeen, she's all cunning and all about having a good time in the company of others.

She still doesn't let her hair down (literally), she never will. No one can ever earn that right.

Besides, sex is no different with or without your hair being down. Jim doesn't care enough to test it, but she does test the sex. With males and females and aliens, and why should she limit herself in this profound experience? Of course it hadn't been profound the first time she tried it, with Johnny of all people, and she had been fifteen at the time. There had been pain and discomfort and Johnny just didn't know what he was doing cause it was all over before she could blink.

She didn't let that discourage her though, she doesn't believe in no-win scenarios, and what people might call promiscuous, she thinks is a healthy dose of sexual revolution. If guys and Orions can do it, why can't she? And she's smart; she knows she can reproduce, so she takes the necessary precautions to ensure she doesn't. She's fucking up her life, sure, but why should she take the responsibility of fucking up an innocent kid's life?

She doesn't just sleep with everybody. She probably sleeps with more women than she does with men. She's always careful whom she chooses. She has her secret little process of elimination. Sex takes up some of her time; the other part of it is spent fucking with the people of Riverside. Hacking into different databases, hotwiring cars and vandalizing here and there. She's a troublemaker, not a rebel.

Idle hands are the devil's workshop after all. So what happens when those idle hands belong to a genius?

Frank had finally learned to leave her be. Jim didn't want his support anyway. That's probably why when she saw the 'Help Wanted' sign at her favorite bar, she decided maybe she'd be good at bartending. She was self-taught after all and she'd read about all the great little drinks they were expected to make. The manager had protested at first, she was underage, but then she batted her eyes and twirled the end of her ponytail and made him laugh. He laughed and couldn't deny she was good. And if a pretty little thing could keep the customers coming back every night, he might just take the risk. All she had to do was lie about her age and never do anything more than a little heavy flirting with the customers. He said that's what got his last bartender in hot water, and the costly damage to his establishment had been unforgivable.

So Jim took the job, bartending the bar just on the edge of town, near Riverside's shipyard, batting her eyelashes, grinning coyly and earning sizeable tips. Tips that got her packing and moving into her own place. Finally free from Frank, who had been eyeing her with a suspicious look of lust as of late. She couldn't risk it. She knew the warning signs. All he needed to do was to drink himself into a stupor, make a move and she'd be hauled away for killing the bastard because he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

She does not tolerate being manhandled by anyone.

But she's gone before he can try. And she's happy, really. She's got a decent job and she's taking care of herself. And she tries to convince herself that nothing is missing, ignoring how the night sky still calls out to her. Or how her talents feel wasted on drunk and horny patrons who forget that they already tipped her, and will tip her again. And for a moment, the pretending goes pretty well.

That is, until _she _arrived.

Jim wasn't stupid, she knew what was happening, what all those red uniforms meant. She knew where they came from and where they were going. She knew why they uncomfortably reminded her of what her father was, and what he had done. But Jim's never anything but stubborn, and played dumb when they came around and talked enthusiastically about just what they planned on doing in those red uniforms.

Bartenders were supposed to be a listening ear, unfortunately. But this night, when _she _came in, Jim didn't mind so much. The dark beauty had strolled up to the bar, all curves and slanted eyes, wrapped perfectly in that regulation uniform and long dark hair reaching down to her waist. She picked up a menu, ignoring the drools and the stares left to right, and rattled off all the drinks she wanted. Jim grinned and waited patiently, even suggested a drink, which was well received, and _pounced_.

"That's a lot of drinks for one woman," Jim says, not even sparing her own hands a glance as she makes them. She's got this, and she's kind of showing off too.

The dark beauty lifts an eyebrow before dropping her gaze back down to the menu.

Jim presses, "How about a shot of jack on me?"

"My drink's are on me, so no thanks," she replies evenly, not even sparing Jim a glance.

Jim smirks. She loves a challenge. God, Mr. Demo was gonna kill her for what she was about to do. "Don't you even wanna know my name before you just reject me?"

"I'm fine without it."

"You are fine without it. Very."

Silence.

"If you don't tell me your name, I get to make one up for you."

Her eyebrow twitches with a hint of annoyance. "Uhura."

"Well don't that just beat all? That's exactly what I was gonna make up for you. But, they don't have last names on your world or something?"

A sigh. "Uhura is my last name."

"They don't have…first names on your world?"

"How are those drinks coming along?" Uhura replies sweetly.

Jim grins. "My name's Jim by the way, thanks for asking."

Uhura looks unimpressed.

Jim rolls her eyes and starts putting some of the drinks on a tray. "So you're a cadet, what's your focus?"

Uhura straightens and cocks back her shoulders with pride. "Xenolinguistics. And you have no idea what that is," she says, giving Jim an assessing gaze.

Jim can feel the judgment, she's familiar with it. Her grin slips just a little, and that competitive edge comes out before she can bottle it back up again.

Challenge accepted.

"Linguistics," Jim starts, finishing the last drink and leaning forward against the bar. Uhura lets Jim into her personal space, recognizing the challenge, and Jim starts falling for her again. "The study of alien languages, morphology, phonology and syntax."

Uhura grins slow but sure. "I'm impressed," she admits, leans in a bit more, and then lowers her voice, "I thought you were just some pretty farm girl who sells moonshine and keeps her redneck cousins out of jail."

Jim doesn't take the jibe personally. She can tell Uhura is warming up to her, and if she plays her cards right, Jim can win her over. "Ah, so you are familiar with the Dukes of Hazard. You know, I get that all the time. S'pretty decent show when you get into it. I wouldn't mind showing you my own little collection."

Uhura throws her head back and laughs out loud, drawing the attention of the other patrons.

Jim thinks, mission accomplished. That is, until some dumbass intercepts before she can claim her prize.

"Aren't you supposed to be serving drinks? I'd like a few, you know, today if you're done trying to fuck this cadet on top of the bar."

Uhura hisses and Jim rears back, assessing the guys and the few goons that lurk behind him. "Relax Cupcake, you'll get your turn."

Cupcake licks his lips. "Now there's an idea," he says with a wink.

Jim frowns. "Fuck off. I don't have time to play around with idiotic giants who have little baby dicks."

Cupcake snarls. "I'd watch it if I were you missy. Maybe you didn't notice, but there are five of us and only one of you."

"Then go get some more guys and then it'll be an even fight," Jim grins and leans forward, patting Cupcake on the face.

Cupcake snarls again, grabs her wrist with bone-crushing force and yanks her over the bar. Jim manages to grab an empty vodka bottle on the way of being hauled over and smashes it over his head with it. He drops like a rock and the other goons move in.

And that's when the real destruction starts.

The bar is in a frenzy, watching the spectacle as five guys try to swing at Jim and fail when she roundhouse kicks them all in their face. She manages to keep them all down, but at a cost. She's so busy with the five of them that she misses as Cupcake regains his bearings and lands a powerful punch to the side of her face. She stumbles back, still caught in surprise, as another punch catches her in the bottom of her lip. Uhura yells and jumps on Cupcake's back, hitting him in the back of his head when he doesn't listen to her protests. Jim takes a moment to drop to her knees before Cupcake and punches him right in his junk.

Again, he drops like a rock.

Jim pants from the adrenaline rush of it all, climbs to her feet and assesses the damage. All of them are on the ground, laying in piles of broken glass and the splintered wood the tables that collapsed when she threw them at it. A smile starts to spread and she winces when pain laces her jaw, and she thinks better of having a celebratory grin. Uhura is staring at her with an almost awe-struck gaze that morphs into something thoughtful, and as Uhura opens her mouth to voice these thoughts, a loud whistle pierces the all too quiet atmosphere and the entire group of red uniforms stand at attention.

An older gentlemen, which Jim's libido acknowledges that he is quite good-looking, is standing in the doorway with his head cocked and amused look on his face as he sizes up the situation. It's then that Jim realizes what she must look like, standing in the midst of it all, and she kind of wants to laugh. But there's too much pain in her jaw, and her eye's throbbing with an oncoming black eye, and she is _so _fired, she just knows it. Before she can escape with all the dignity she has left, the old man introduces himself as Captain Christopher Pike, and how he would like a word with her.

He makes sure to clear out the place before they have their little chitchat. Uhura actually pats her on the shoulder on the way out, looking somewhat apologetic and Jim watches her go, well, watches those legs walk away, and sighs a little regrettably herself. Not the way she wanted to end the night. Captain Pike sits down and motions to the seat on the other side of the only table in the bar that's still in tact. She sits down reluctantly, and by the look in his eye, she's not sure if she's about to get her own little reprimand.

What comes next is a complete surprise.

"En_list_? Ow, fuck," Jim holds her jaw with the bag of ice her manager was kind enough to give to her right as he fired her. Mr. Demo had an unyielding nature, but he was still a softie at heart. She knows he doesn't really want to fire her, but he'd warned her about his intolerance for heavy damage in his bar. Jim works her jaw slowly, "Wow, you guys must _really _be low on your quota."

"Not at all," Pike replies smoothly. "But I'm no fool, James. I know something extraordinary when I see it. I know that instinct of leaping without looking when I sense it. And in my opinion its something Starfleet's been lacking. You, James, I know who you are."

Jim stiffens in her seat. "And who am I Captain Pike?"

"Your father's daughter," he says.

Jim wants to say 'fuck you' but she's got a little respect for her elders. "Are we done?"

"I looked up your file while you were being fired. Your aptitude tests are off the chart. So what is it? You like being the only genius-level offender in the Midwest?"

Jim grins slowly, ignoring the pain in her jaw, and lets her eyelashes flutter. "Maybe I love it," she says lowly, seductively.

Pike sighs. "Okay. Okay. Maybe you do," he reaches in his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief and tosses it to her as he stands. "Maybe you can settle for a less than ordinary life. But you feel like you were meant for something better. Four years, and you could have your own ship. We're leaving tomorrow, shuttle for new recruits leaves at 0800-"

"Goodnight Captain," Jim says and turns away from him.

Pike stares at her for a little longer before he turns and heads to the door. Before he leaves, he pauses and says, "You know your father never made captaincy, hadn't even graduated, but he still managed to save over a billion lives, including your own. I dare you to do better." And he's gone.

Jim just sits there. She lowers the bag of ice and runs her tongue over her bloody, swollen lip and winces when she comes in contact with the split. She glances down at the handkerchief Pike left behind, and as she picks it up, she realizes that her knuckles are bleeding also. She frowns and gazes at the floor, Pike's words swirling around her head.

Pike is the reason why she rides through the night, trying to think up all the little reasons why she shouldn't go. Jim doesn't—isn't surprised when she finds more reasons to leave than to stay. But she is surprised that she actually throws all caution to the wind, says fuck you very much to Pike's dare, and rides off into the sunset.

Well, if the sunset is Georgia, then yes, that's certainly where she rides off to. Though that had not been her intention at all. And everything that followed after could be said the same.

888

It happened like this.

That night—or perhaps it was morning—she left Riverside, Iowa with nothing but the clothes on her back, all the money she had left (a good 3,000 credits from big tips and crazy saving) and the bike she built with her own two hands, taking her anywhere she needed to go. She didn't have anything of sentimental value back at her apartment, so that why she chose to skip a trip there altogether. If she had to be honest, her bike was the only thing of importance to her. She hadn't even given a thought to driving around and bidding farewell to her friends. She had none, at least not any real ones. Just because the word buddy was accompanied by the word fuck did not allude to any depth in that relationship. So she kicked up the dust under her heel and that was as close as a goodbye that Riverside, Iowa was going to get.

And Frank—well fuck him too.

It only took an hour of driving to reach the border of Iowa, and when she pulled into a gas station to fill up, she decided that investing in a road map would be worthwhile. So she bought one and used the length of her arms to spread it open as she leaned against her bike and used her baby blue's to scan the whole thing. As she looked it over, she gave the East Coast a perpetual middle finger because—just, _no_. Starfleet was in that direction, there was just no way.

That being said, she had the whole West Coast and Midwest and Deep South to consider. She must have stayed leaning against her bike for a good fifteen minutes, ignoring all the cat-calls of those dumb redneck truck drivers, and finally came to a decision. She was going to make a life for herself in Miami, Florida. She was already a qualified bartender, all she would need to do was make it legal and she could really do something there. After all, Miami was known for many things and clubs and bars were one of them. If she worked hard enough, she could open up her own bar, rack in some celebrity clientele and have it made well into retirement.

Jim liked this plan. She loved this plan. She was going to stick to this plan.

So she folded the map down and put it into her back pocket, straddled her bike and drove until she reached Chicago. She checked into a hotel that night, and skipped the sightseeing in favor of walking the streets in search of a clothing store. She found one and didn't make a fuss about what she picked. Just some new jeans and a shirt to replace the ones she was currently sporting. After she stopped at a Thai restaurant and got some tofu, she showered, threw out her old clothes, and kept only her leather jacket and boots. She fell into bed the minute she was done eating, and was fully prepared to leave as soon as she woke up the next morning.

And leave she did, but it wasn't in the morning. She had been so exhausted from the drive before that she hadn't woken up till sometime the next evening. She quickly hopped out of bed and got dressed, cursing because she had missed her checkout, which meant she would have to pay for a second night. She grumbled and stumbled and staggered her way around the room and eventually down to the lobby where, lucky for her, there was a guy at the reception. A grin here, a coy look there and she was able to leave and hit the road without even having to pay for the extra night.

Sometimes it was fun being a girl.

Five hours on the road found her down in Indianapolis, Indiana and an hour and a half after that, Lexington, Kentucky. And sometime after that she's in Nashville, Tennessee. It's only when she reaches the border of Atlanta, Georgia does she make herself pull into at the upcoming truck stop for a quick rest. It's well into the early next morning, mostly around nine or ten. She parks her bike next to a gas pump, and ignores the catcalls of a group truckers huddled off to the side between two massive trucks. She flips them off without so much a glance and heads inside the tiny gas station.

Jim walks up to the counter where there is a half-bald, large spectacle wearing man sitting behind it with a magazine, looking as though he could care less about anything. He flips to the next page lazily as he says, "Lookin' to fill?"

"Pretty much," Jim confirms, resting her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket.

"Uh-huh," He says as he flips to the next page. "Pump number?"

"Uh—" Jim twists her head and squints her eyes to see though the dirty window to where her bike is and can vaguely make out the number. "Six, I think." She turns back just in time to see him sigh long-sufferingly and slap down his magazine to ring her up.

"Ground vehicle?"

"Yeah."

"You want it full?"

"Yeah."

He nods and mutters out the price while his hand extend towards her expectantly.

Jim gives him her credit chip and winces slightly as he roughly swipes it several times. To distract herself from the sight, she glances down at the rack of magazines below the counter.

The man sniffs and hands her back her credit chip. "That should do it."

"Thanks," Jim says and pockets her credit chip, doing a bit of mental math to see where she is.

Just as she turns to exit, the man, picking up his magazine again, says, "Hot chocolate."

Jim frowns. "Excuse me?"

The man, yet again, lets out a long-suffering sigh as he points to the sign hanging directly above him. "Hot chocolate's free on Thursdays for the ladies." Shaking out his magazine as though it were a newspaper he continues, "Yeah. Was the wife's idea. Said it'll draw more in of the lady clientele. And well—my wife done gone up with the good Lord some months ago—figured I'd keep doin' what she had in mind. So if you lookin' to get warm, cause it is a bit cold out, you can head on over to the left and help yourself to that machine right there."

Jim glances over to where he gestures his head and sees two blocky glass machines, gurgling the brown liquid with steam coming up from the top. Never one to say no to some free chocolate, she says, "Thanks."

The man grunts and engrosses himself in some article. "Hot chocolate's free but if your lookin' for marshmallows it'll cost ya."

Jim slides over to the machines and takes one of the medium-sized Styrofoam cups. Pressing down on the nozzle, she fills the cup up somewhat above it being halfway and glances around. "Hey, you have a ice machine?"

The man glances over the edge of his magazine at her with a raised brow. Then indicates to the right with his head. "Ice is around back. Should be a shovel, just knock at it and scrape out what breaks off."

Jim nods and scuttles over to the freezer box to do just that. She's not one to drink hot liquids; she has Frank to thank for that. And because of one particular traumatic experience, she'll never touch her tongue to anything hot that comes in liquid form ever again. Albeit, she does have her moments when it comes to food even, but she's working on getting over that.

Jim chips away at the block of ice in the freezer box and uses the hand shovel to scoop it out and dump a few chips into her cup. She drops the shovel back in and slides the door close as she slaps a lid on her cup and takes a few tentative sips. It tastes lukewarm and a bit watery but that's something she's used to so she doesn't mind as much. She swirls her cup around gently, mixing the ice in more properly as she mutters another thanks and exits the station.

Jim lifts the cup to take a few more sips but pauses with a frown instead when she sees the group of truckers all crowding around her bike. They're all in a tight knit circle, like they were attempting to levitate her bike with some weird séance chanting. She just takes a breath, juts her chin (which is admittedly still a little sore from her last tussle a couple of days ago) and keeps her expression blank.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Jim asks when she reaches them.

They all turn towards her with a dark grin. They take turns eyeing her and Jim does her best to school her expression and not roll her eyes.

"We was just admirin' your little thing here," one of them says.

Another says, "Your boyfriend know your takin' his bike for a joyride? He the one that give you that shiner?"

They all chuckle.

Jim smiles tightly. "Now boys, I'm not looking for any trouble. I'm just passing through."

They all glance at one another.

Jim takes a leisurely sip from her cup.

"You look like trouble gal," says the guy standing at the front of her bike.

"Pretty girls like you are a dime a dozen."

"We just wanted to say welcome, anyway," someone else says. "We even filled you up, so you ain't got to worry about that."

"We thought it'd be nice if we showed our own brand of courtesy."

"Hopefully it'll convince you to stay."

Jim eyes them all, but keeps her expression neutral. She counts heads and there are about seven of them. While she would be able to take on four on them—five if she's quick enough—she'd still be in danger of being outnumbered. She doesn't feel like being gang rapped in the back of some gas station by a bunch of fat, shovel-faced, pedostache wielding truckie weirdoes. Her best option was to just bow out gracefully.

"I should really get going, so—excuse me," Jim says and waits patiently as they all snicker and step back to give her some breathing room. "Gentlemen." Keeping her cup cradled in one hand while she kicks up the kickstand and revs the engine. She doesn't look back as she exits out the truck stop and heads southbound for the heart of Atlanta. Nothing seems wrong the drive over, but it isn't until she exits off the ramp and onto the streets of the city does she realize there is something very wrong with her baby. It's nothing subtle, but she'd be the first to know if something is even the slightest askew, and this was one of those cases.

Even though Jim doesn't want to, she pulls into a nearby garage. She'd much rather fix her bike herself (hell, she'd built it, why wouldn't she?) and it's uncomfortable for her to watch someone else paw their greasy hands all over but she's reminded she's far from home. Being far from home meant being far from her own little workshop and spare parts. She does not have the means to fix her bike up herself. She isn't even sure if she has the means to let someone else fix it for her.

**Vick & Vickers Auto Shop**

That's what the sign says as she drives into the small lot, already riddled with junk parts and immobile ground vehicles and hovercars. Jim frowns and maneuvers very carefully around it all until she finds herself at the entrance of the garage. The door is already lifted and a few employees are scuttling about with parts in their hands and motor oil all over their gray jumpsuits. They seem mightily focused, and they barely notice her as she cuts the engine. She vaguely notices the Latino music playing in the background.

Jim clears her throat loudly. "Excuse me."

One of the employees' stops and gazes at her considerably before saying, "Algo que quieras?"

Jim feels both of her eyebrows lift. She can somewhat recall the Spanish classes she took in her first year of high school, but not so much since she hadn't been all that interested in learning a new language at the time, too caught up in the left over anger and grief of Tarsus IV.

"Señora, algo que usted quiere?" he repeats with a frown.

Jim scraps together a reply, "Yo necesito ayuda—uh—pero yo no soy bueno—con—con el español. Persona con Inglés en—esta lista?"

"Ah, sí," the man wears an expression of understanding. "Wait—a minute—okay?" he says with a thick accent.

Jim can only nod and watch as he disappears. She takes that time to finish off the rest of her hot chocolate, which is completely cooled and watered down by this time. She downs it and throws it in a near by garbage bin that just so happens to be sitting against the wall where there is a clock.

_12:34 p.m._ is what it reads.

"Yes, hello, hello," a voice says from behind her.

Jim turns and is greeted by the sight of an older man with salt and pepper hair, a slightly rounded middle and kind brown eyes. He has dark skin, much like the other employees, and his voice is heavily accented. As she shakes his hand when he offers her one, she wonders if they are all Dominican. Jim knew a girl back in grade school that looked the same and spoke the same, and she was Dominican.

"I am Miguel," he greets. He is eying her face curiously, but Jim says nothing of it. His gaze lingers particularly on her black eye.

"Jim."

"Ah, yes," Miguel nods as if he approves of her name and Jim finds that just a bit amusing. "You need help with your machine?"

Jim gives a half-shrug. "Well I just need a diagnosis. Then I guess we'll both know if it needs help or not."

Miguel nods and turns, "Ey, ven ahora. Rápidamente, por favor." He signals to his younger companion, the one that was the first to greet Jim before. He drops whatever it is he is doing and saddles up beside Miguel. Throwing an arm over his shoulder, Miguel says, "This is my nephew, Juan Carlo. You two have met, yes?"

Jim nods.

"He will look at your machine, okay? No charge," Miguel waves his hand with the negative. "We find something—then we tell you how much to fix—okay? But when we look—we don't charge."

"Alright, sounds good," Jim replies with a small smile.

Miguel gives an approving nod and turns to Juan Carlo, exchanging words with him in Spanish before they separate. "Okay—he's going to look the bike over. You come in and sit in office. You like banana bread? My daughter—she bakes sometimes. She goes to the school for cooking," he explains as he leads her deeper into the garage and back to where his office is. The office is not very spacious, and it has only about three chairs, a work desk, a refrigerator and a water cooler. "Please sit," he gestures to one of the seats against the wall.

Jim sits carefully and glances around. She shakes her head when he reappears with a plate of carefully sliced banana bread. It smells good, but she wouldn't dare touch it. "Thank you, but I can't accept."

"You don't like?" Miguel asks with a confused furrow of his brow.

Jim doesn't want to offend. "I'm allergic."

"Ah," Miguel says and nods. "Okay—you thirsty? Anything you want to drink?"

"No I'm fine, but thank you very much."

Miguel chuckles and sits across from her, yanking a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his forehead. "You sound different. You don't have the same accent as the other people who come."

Jim smiles. "That's because I'm a northerner," she says. "Iowa."

"Ah," Miguel nods. "Okay. You move here?"

"No, I'm passing through," Jim clarifies.

"You look very young—you remind me of my daughter," Miguel says and then he gestures to his own eye. "Please—tell me how this happened."

Jim touches her black eye. "You mean this?" She watches as he nods. "Had a bad run in with a couple of guys. You should really see them, I think I came out pretty alright compared."

Miguel winks and shakes his fist. "Now that's the way."

Jim chuckles.

Juan Carlo appears in the doorway a minute later with a grave frown on his face. "Tío," he begins but then pauses to shake his head.

Miguel stands and Jim does as well. "Ha encontrado el problema?"

"Sí, pero la señora no va a gustar."

"Vaya por delante y decir."

"Alguien puso diluyente de pintura en y se mezcla con el motor. No lo puedo durar mucho tiempo."

"Ah," Miguel replies very sadly.

Jim feels her concern increase. "What did he find?"

Miguel turns to her with a frown. "He thinks someone put the paint thinner in your engine."

Jim hands immediately curl into fists. Those fucking truckers!

"You will have to replace the whole thing—ah, one moment," Miguel turns and grabs a PADD. He works a hand over it for a minute or so before he turns it towards Jim. "This will be the price."

Jim winces as she sees the number. Even in installments, it's well beyond the means she currently has.

Miguel notices her reaction and glances at Juan Carlo. "Déjanos. Vaya, vaya. Cierre la puerta detrás de ti," he says, doing a shooing gesture with his free hand.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jim sees Juan Carlo nod and exit the office, closing the door behind him. When they're alone, she says, "I can't—afford that. There's no way," she admits. Anxiety begins to gnaw at her gut, forming a slight stomachache. Now what was she to do? She didn't come this far just to be stuck where she hadn't planned.

Miguel nods. "I understand—I thought as much. But you are a nice girl. I have a good feeling about you. There will not be much I can do, even in being reasonable." He turns and grabs a business card, signing his name against the blank side of it. "Mira—I have a son—he is my oldest. He has a shop in Savannah—he can be fair, but only to those I personally send." Miguel slides the card in her hand and cradles them with his own. "I like you—this is rare. I know you can go anywhere and they will treat you unfair and say this for this just because the model you have is rare, yes? But I tell you—go to my son—his name is Luis Miguel and his address is on the card. You give him the card—" Miguel let's her hands go and shakes his head along with his hands. "He tell you, no problem—and he work with you. Okay?"

Jim nods. "Thank you, very much."

Miguel waves her off. "You have enough time to make this trip, so you go and as soon as you're into Savannah, you see my son."

Jim nods again.

"Good, now go," Miguel shoos her with a smile.

Jim returns the smile and exits out the office and out the garage to her bike, which is still parked where she left it.

Jim's got a three and a half hour drive ahead of her. She prays she can make it that far.

888

Savannah is a big place full of small towns.

At least that's the way Jim views it. It kind of reminds her of home—well maybe not home, but of Iowa. She find's Luis's shop without getting too turned around (thanks to the help of a few locals) and when she arrives she finds that Luis looks every bit like his father. He also has that warm friendliness about him as well, and he lacks the thick accent that his father and cousin have. Jim figures Luis must have been raised in the states, but again, she's not sure where they're from originally.

Luis diagnoses the bike once more and understands the problem immediately. He apologetically admits that the replacement will be expensive and it will take some time to find the right part. Maybe even months, but Jim knew that. She had been afraid of that, always been afraid of that, which is why she always took such good care of her bike. It had only been luck when she'd found a working engine in that old junkyard back home, and she'd paid a hefty price for it too, since they were so hard to come by like that. You either had to have ground vehicle engines imported or handmade. That alone costs an arm and a leg.

"You tell me how much you have, and we can work from there," Luis says.

Jim fidgets with a sigh. "I have about 2,789 credits left, but I know that's not enough, even if I gave you every dime I have."

Luis nods sadly. "Well, if you have time to wait, I can look around and see if I can track down a used engine. I know some guys who have shops that specialize in this. I'll do that and give you a quote on the best price."

Jim sighs. "That's fine. Anything would be helpful at this point. How much—"

"This I'll do for free. I know you might have to pay quite a lot so I won't charge for fees and services," Luis says.

"Oh my God, thank you," Jim says, laughing a bit wearily.

Luis shrugs with a grin. "It's rare I see a woman so passionate about her vehicle. And lucky for you, everything around here is within walking distance." He winks and shuffles off to help another customer.

"Yeah, lucky," Jim mutters as she rubs the back of her neck and tries to think. Looks like she was going to be stuck here for quite sometime. She thinks of all the pros and cons. She wonders if it would be easier to just buy a new car, or even least expensive.

_But you wont do that. You can't leave this bike, not when it has a piece of your father in it. The only piece you have left. _

Jim probes her black eye with a scowl. She is unwilling to admit it but she has a personal tie to the bike. The night before she drove the corvette off the cliff, she'd taken a small part from it and wielded it into her bike. Which cements the fact that her plans to travel to Miami are screwed, utterly and thoroughly.

"Fucking truckies," Jim growls and winces when she pokes the tender skin of her bruised eye a little too roughly. She sighs and turns to exit Luis's shop, heading in no certain direction. It is a small town, so everything _is _within walking distance. Her stomach growls and she rubs it faintly, her feet leading her to the diner that's a couple of blocks up.

**Mom & Pops Family Diner**

That's the name of the joint, and it certainly owns the name well. The diner, like most of the shops in town, is themed to follow architectural designs found in the 21st century. She finds a quiet little booth in the back and enjoys a moment to just sit and relax. Her stomach rumbles all the more and her frown deepens. She's hungry, but at this point, she's not sure if she can even afford ordering a cup of lemonade. Everything she has will have to go to the repair of her bike.

Jim sighs and doesn't even bother looking over the menu. She just crosses her arms and hunches down in her seat as far as she can, eyeing the napkin dispenser, the ketchup and mustard bottles and eventually the salt and pepper shakers. But it's hard to ignore the way her stomach is growling, enticed by the tantalizing aromas of the diner. It's also hard to ignore the curious stares she's getting. From the ten other people that's in the diner as well.

Jim really should have bought some sunglasses and a baseball cap when she had the chance. Everyone is looking at her like she's sporting the phrase '_NEW TO TOWN' _right across the middle of her forehead. Seriously, was she being obvious or something?

"You're not from around here are you?" a warm voice, tinged with a lazy drawl of that southern twang, says to her immediate right.

Jim turns her gaze away from the bowl of sugar packets and up to the smiling face of slim brunette with bright green eyes and a graceful beauty that said she should be auditioning to be Miss Universe and not a waitress. Her hair was a mess of brown waves, and that waitress uniform—maybe it was called a work dress—complete with a white apron, fit her curves so ridiculously that Jim could keep herself from admiring it.

Jim glances back up to see her grinning at her knowingly. "Sorry sweetheart, I'm spoken for," she teases.

Jim grins kind of sheepishly, feeling caught in the act. "Sorry," she mutters and straightens.

"Oh, I don't mind really. Makes me feel good about myself," she admits. "Name's Diane Treadaway. But everyone around here calls me Dixie," she offers the hand that isn't holding the small writing pad and pencil.

Jim takes it. "Jim. Just Jim."

"Well Just Jim, if you will excuse my nosiness, just where are you from?" Dixie slides into the booth, right across from her.

Jim finds this a little amusing. She glances around and sees there aren't that many customers, but she still doesn't want to get, what seems like could be her first friend, in trouble.

Dixie notices and chuckles, waving a hand carelessly. "Oh don't you worry about them, most people around here look after themselves. All I'm really good for is refillin' their cups when the coffee gets low. And I'm married to the owner, so I won't get a talkin' to. Well—if he knows what's good for him I wont." She nods firmly.

Jim laughs a little, liking Dixie all the more. "Is it that obvious I'm new?"

"In a place where everyone knows everyone? You bet," Dixie confirms. "And sometimes—we can even smell ya'll too. If you don't smell like Georgia, well you ain't from around here," she winks.

Jim laughs again. "The scent of Georgia, huh? Is that a perfume I can buy in stores to avoid this problem? I don't need the attention. Just what does a Georgian smell like?" she asks curiously.

"Oh well—depends on where in Georgia you hail from really. City folks smell like glass and rubber. Country folk smell like corn and the pages of the bible. And us in-betweeners—or townies, if you prefer—smell like syrup and the sun I suppose." Dixie's beautiful face twists with deep thought. "And that ain't exactly somethin' you can buy in stores. You gotta let the air fester in your skin—and that usually takes a good month or two."

Jim grins. "Lucky for me, I'm looking at a long-term engagement with this town."

"This here town got a name you know, and you should learn it if you really plan on staying as long as you say," Dixie says, wagging a stern finger at Jim. "We go by Hudson Hill—sometimes Bayview—and though we seem like a curious bunch, we are friendly, if not direct. Mostly direct though. We don't believe in beatin' around the bush."

"Sounds like my kind of temporary place," Jim grins.

Dixie guffaws. "Oh you. You ain't gonna wanna leave, you'll see. Just give it some time."

"Time is all I have currently," Jim admits and flushes a little when her stomach growls.

"Ah shoot. I'm so busy flappin' my gums I didn't think to take your order." Dixie shuffles out of the booth and stands at the edge of the table, pencil poised at the ready over her miniature notepad.

Jim fidgets and glances down at the table. "Uh—I don't really have—I mean—"

"This one's on the house, you bein' new and all," Dixie winks. "Tell you what, I'll bring you the house special. You're fine with roasted chicken and mashed potatoes right?"

Jim's stomach gurgles in agreement and her cheeks go a little pink. "Yeah. Just—um—no gravy, please."

Dixie nods vigorously and jots it down. "Sure thing, sweetheart. You want a side of corn or green beans?"

"Green beans."

"Okay, I'll even add a biscuit in there for ya," Dixie dots her notepad with a smile. "Be right back with that."

Two minutes later and Dixie is right back with her order, setting her plate before her with an award-winning smile and joining her once more for company. She sits and chats animatedly as Jim clears her plate, unable to hold in the mouthful of compliments that seep out with every bite. Dixie finally looks sheepish and admits that while they replicate all other foods, she always home cooks the house specials.

"People mostly come around just for that," Dixie admits. "My husband always jokes that it's my golden hands that keeps him in business, but I say that with or without me, he'd do just fine. This is a family business, you see. Been in Clay's—that's my husband's name by the way—been in Clay's family for generations. And when we have kids, I suspect he'll want to pass it along to them."

Jim chews and nods.

Dixie goes on explaining that she's about three months pregnant, and that she found out the day before. She hasn't told her husband yet, but she wanted to wait until the weekend, when it was his birthday and surprise him. She then invites Jim to come to the birthday bash, saying that it will give her a chance to meet the rest of the folks of Hudson Hill. Jim just replies an affirmative; she doesn't have anywhere to be or anything to do.

When Dixie offers her a slice of cherry pie, Jim has to decline. It's only by Dixie's persistence does she explain vaguely about her food allergies. Dixie eases up just a little but still looks somewhat put out. Jim grows a bit fonder of Dixie because of this. She decides to distract the beautiful brunette by telling her about where she came from, why she was so far from home and her current predicament.

"Oh my," Dixie says, propping her arm against the table and resting her head in her hand. "You know I thought you seemed a bit down, but I couldn't be sure. And you look young, how old are you?"

"I just turned seventeen last month," Jim says.

"Well it seems you need a job—not to mention a place to stay."

Jim nods at the truth of it.

"Well," Dixie says thoughtfully as she straightens. "I can't exactly help you in the job department, or with a place to stay. We've got enough people on our budget here, and if I could fire one of them and get you on board I would Jim, but as is, I can't. Plus my sister's husband is staying in our spare room. They're kind of goin' through if you know what I mean, and he's takin' shelter with us till they can sort things out." Dixie sighs as she thinks on it. "But I think—well, I can't be sure—but I think I know a place you can go. Just till you get on your feet. She's a real sweet woman, feisty at times, but as sweet as a sugar plum." Dixie flips her miniature notepad open to a blank page and doodles down a name and an address. "You like apples right?" She rips the sheet loose and hands it over.

Jim takes it with a slight frown. "Uh—yeah—practically my favorite fruit. Or food in general." Her gaze drops to the piece of paper. "Eleanora McCoy?"

"Mhm," Dixie nods. "She's been lookin' for an extra set of hands to help her out with her apple orchard. She lives alone—and while she ain't exactly a old shut-in, it's still too much for her to handle by herself. She's got a boy but he's a Doctor—remember I mentioned my sister's husband? Yup, that's him and he spends all his time in his clinic that's a mile to the west of here—and also to be honest, they ain't on speakin' terms either, but you didn't hear any of this from me. Momma McCoy's gotten offers but she's _real _particular. I think she'll like you though, and she's even offerin' room and board with full time pay."

Jim glances back down at the paper more considerably.

"Just go on tonight, Jim, she don't bite—much," Dixie's eyes are twinkling. "I can drive you even, if you're lookin' to hitch."

"No thanks," Jim says as she pockets the address. "Just point me in the right direction and I'll walk. I might be doing a lot of that for the time being, so I should get a head start on it. It'll help me learn the land."

Dixie smiles. "Well alright, I'll let that one slide since you're new. You should know that we Hudson Hill folk don't offer things lightly, and we sure find it offensive when a person declines our spectacular show of neighborly-ism." Dixie's smile shrinks into a small grin. "Beware, Jim, we're naggers. We like bendin' willpower until you succumb to our friendliness."

"My poor resolve, how will I ever last?" Jim teases and laughs in surprise when Dixie flips her off.

"Laugh now, you'll see. Most people are overbearin' twits thinkin' they got somethin' to prove. And well—ah shoot, I wont get into it. You'll see soon enough unfortunately. Come on, I'll send you off with a plate. It's getting' late." Dixie scuttles off, disappearing in the kitchen as Jim waits by the register, which is located at the front of the diner. She reappears with several containers in a large plastic bag. She smiles and guides Jim out the door, giving her a hug and sternly making sure that Jim promises to come by as often as possible.

Jim does and follows the direction of where Dixie points when they separate. Knowing that Dixie is most likely still watching, she throws up her hand in a backwards wave before the gathering darkness wraps around her, making her invisible. The walk to the McCoy Manor takes a good forty-five minutes until she reaches the end of the drive that leads further back. She walks up the driveway and can't help but to covet the apple trees she passes. They look very ripe and supple. These trees straddle both sides of the driveway and stops short of the Manor, but even Jim can tell that behind the décor southern structure of the place, there's just a whole field of these apple trees.

Jim walks up the white steps, across the grey of the porch planks and to the cherry brown screen door. She rings the doorbell once—twice—and then waits. There is absolute silence that follows, but the front room lights were on so Jim knew there had to be someone around. After a few minutes of continuing quiet, she rings the doorbell a few more times.

"Alright! Alright! Hold your horses, I'm comin'!" a voice says from the other side of the door. A few clicks of locks being loosened and the door opens just a crack. A hazel eye pokes out and eyes Jim. "Well—you lookin' to sell me somethin'?"

"No," Jim says.

"Well I ain't convertin' either, so you can take your twisted version of Jesus Christ—blessed be his name—and just _get_."

Jim has to smother a grin. "No ma'am, I'm not a convert. I'm actually quite the nonbeliever."

The door widens enough to expose a scowl. "That's no good. A pretty gal like you should have somethin' she believes in."

"Oh, I've a few, but none that have anything to do with what can be found in the bible," Jim confesses earnestly.

The door opens completely. "My God, I do believe you were sent to me so that I may save your poor soul." Eleanora eyes Jim more carefully. "Just how old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Seventeen? What do your parents think of you bein' off this late?"

"I have none, so there's no one to worry," Jim admits with an indifferent shrug.

Eleanora's face softens slightly as she gazes at Jim's black eye. "Well come in, it's gettin' cold out. No sense in you gettin' sick. Let's take our debate to the foyer where we can argue like civilized beings." She pushes open the screen door and steps back, gesturing for Jim to enter.

Jim does and walks just a few paces before she stops dead. The house is unfamiliar to her and she isn't sure which direction to turn.

"To the left—you sit yourself over in that chair and I'll get us somethin' to drink," Eleanora says.

Jim nods, and crowds into the living area, sitting carefully on top of silk-cushioned chair that's besides a cherry wood tea table. Jim glances to and fro, taking note of all the pictures of family and friends and fancy furniture and silk curtains and—is that a Persian rug? Do they seriously still make those? This woman sure lived in style. Seems like the apple business paid off very well.

Eleanora returns with a tray of cheese and white wine. "I had thought to make tea, but I feel as if it's too late for that. You don't mind do you? Doesn't seem as if you would but I have been wrong before."

Jim smiles and accepts the half-full glass when offered. "Not at all," she replies.

"I know your not legal, but I always thought such a thing is fine as long as your in the right company." Eleanora sighs. "Now," She starts. "You've come lookin' for a place and a job? Diane called a little before you showed up. Seemed convinced I would like you, I suppose she was right, she's got a good instinct usually so I trust her by her word. I set up the room already, you can blame that for why it took me so long to come to the door."

Jim chokes on her first sip and coughs into her wine glass, partially from shock and amusement. She clears her throat and swipes the back of her hand against her mouth. "You mean you knew that I—"

Eleanora quickly interjects, "I wouldn't say that, I didn't very well have an idea to what you looked like, I had to be sure. You never know who comes knockin' these days. Mrs. Kennelly got robbed just the same way, and well, I'm alone on this big orchard, I imagine myself an easy target—or perhaps, not so much, now that you're hear. You look like a fighter—if that black eye is anythin' to go by." Eleanora gracefully sips from her glass. "Just how did you come by that?"

Jim shrugs and explains as best as she can.

Eleanora sniffs and looks mildly amused. "Well, I suppose," and she leaves it at that. "Now, about the matter of what I expect you to do," she puts down the glass on the table. "There are about sixty trees on this land, and they've all come into their prime so there's fruit that needs to be picked. I can't manage all that on my own, I prefer to stick to the books. I have a lot of clientele, some here in state but most out. You'll have to check the fruit and make sure it's properly packaged and delivered to the town post office in time. I cannot tell you how ornery my customers get when the apples come even a day late. It'll be hard work, you're the only one I've hired so far, I'm still lookin' for a few more hands and hopefully they'll be found sometime soon. I will pay you for every minute of your time—and since you are the only one, it should be quite sizable."

"I don't mind hard labor, I have some past experience in that department," Jim admits, explicitly not thinking about her time on Tarsus.

Eleanora gazes at her with a small hint of fondness. "Well I do think I made the right choice in lettin' you in my house. That's the kind of attitude I like." She nods approvingly before she stands to her feet. "I'm off to bed, you should as well, we've got us an early start tomorrow. What's your full name?"

"James Kirk."

"Huh," Eleanora says thoughtfully and narrows her eyes. "I got one rule, James, and that's for you to not bring any _friends_ back to my house. You're a pretty girl, I know it'll only be a matter of time before you get some suitors—put the cheese away will you, the kitchen is around the steps—goodnight Jim." She glides out of the room gracefully, leaving Jim to her thoughts.

Jim smiles slightly and downs the rest of her wine. Despite how things have turned out, it might not be so bad after all.

"Only time will tell really," Jim mutters.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>_Please comment. Does it sound like I'm begging? Cause I totally am._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Jim eases out of consciousness, almost as naturally as the nine am sun slides into position in the sky.

She inhales the fresh crispness of her bed linen and stretches lazily like a cat against the cushiness of her pillows and comforter. The bed presses back seductively, hugging her curves perfectly as if to urge her to stay. She's tempted to do just that for a moment or two. She feels gloriously rested. This is why wine is her choice bedtime drink. It never gave her a reason to regret having it the night before and she never was forced to contemplate the act of suicide in grave seriousness like a jury deliberating over a bothersome case the morning after because of a hangover.

It takes her a moment but her nose picks up on the rather delightful scent of bacon and something else. If she had to hazard a guess, she would say that the second smell is either pancakes or waffles or some kind of sweetened flour cake. She flexes her toes as she stares up at the ceiling and spends a few blissful moments emptying her mind and existing. She can't remember the last time she was able to hover in the space of the universe and take the virtual second of time to just be flesh and bone and blood and air—_breathe, breathe, you're alive, **breathe**._

Jim sighs and smiles—doesn't even think why she deserves to be happy—and she lets it fall naturally before hoisting herself up. She lets the sheets collapse to her waist before she laces her fingers and pushes them towards the ceiling (palms face-up). She stretches, curling her spine in and groans in satisfaction when she pops out all the kinks the contortion of her wild sleeping has caused. She sighs again and drops her hands as she chews thoughtfully on her bottom lip before looking out the window that sits adjacent to her bed to the fields of trees facing the west flank of the house and away from the direction of town, which happens to be north.

Through the trees Jim can see the sun peeking over the horizon like a blazing orange that's been peeled, tossed into a powder blue sky and set aflame. Jim snorts and rolls her eyes at herself and her own internal metaphor. She's using food and usually that means she's hungry. She'll need to eat or everything will become food. She knows this from painful experience. So Jim heaves her body out of bed, and eases her way across chilly creaky wooden floorboards with bare feet. As she floats down the main hall of the second floor, she begins to notice things she hadn't the night before: ironed-framed pictures, pastel colored vases, and walls that have obviously been repainted recently.

Jim slides her fingers across the cherry oak polish of the stair rail as she descends down the steps and towards the sound of sizzling oil and soulful humming. It leads her into the kitchen and within the sights of Eleanora McCoy, who is shoveling eggs and bacon onto two teal blue plates. Although she must be aware of Jim, she doesn't acknowledge Jim's presence until after she scoops out a spoonful of grits and distributes it onto the two plates.

"Mornin'," Eleanora grunts as she knifes free a couple of biscuits from a blackened iron pan. She pauses when she notices that Jim is hovering. "Well don't just stand there in the doorway—my God, I can say that there ain't nothin' I can't stand more. Come sit, child. I made food, and I expect for it to be eaten."

Jim smiles and carefully sits down at the kitchen table. "Thank you," she replies timidly. She's not used to home-cooked meals. It's makes her feel a bit—anxious to say the least.

"You ain't gotta look like that, Jamie. I'll say I don't expect nothin' from you that you aren't already about to give. And if I need somethin' more I'll fly it to you straight. I'm not much for subtle gestures." Eleanora tosses a half-grin to Jim before she hums and plops a jar of apple jelly on the table with a butter-knife.

Jim gets to work with spreading some apple jelly over her biscuits. She says, "Is this home-made?"

"Most of everything in my kitchen is. Mindin' the furniture and the tapestries and such," Eleanora replies.

Jim takes a bite of her biscuit, and her tongue tingles in the aftermath of the sweet taste of the apple jelly. The flavor is so raw and strong—quite impressive to say the least. She mixes her eggs in with her grits and shoves a spoonful in her mouth, contemplating how she can avoid eating the bacon without seeming rude. She's not an efficacious meat-eater.

"You slept well?"

"Better than I have in a long time."

"Good. There's some coffee that's done brewin' if you want some," Eleanora says as she sits with her own cup and breathes into the dark mug with a content sigh. She takes a few generous sips as she looks out towards the open backdoor, through the screen door, and out into her fields with silent thoughtfulness. Her dark brown hair is up in a messy bunny, and she's wearing some jeans with a red and white plaid shirt.

The shirt is obviously her husband's, judging by the size. Jim's keen on details, and she knows that even if there's no sign of him around, there are elements of him still lingering. Jim knows better than to ask about that though. "Thanks, but I'm not much of a coffee drinker," she confesses as she bites into her biscuit again.

Eleanora snorts. "Well, I admit I find myself unable to function without a bit of caffeine laced over my bones. Probably ain't good for me—at least my son would say so. He's been sayin' a lot in fact, ever since he got that goddamn degree from med school. Now he likes to tell me all about myself once in a while," she murmurs with wry amusement.

"I'm sure he's just looking after you. He wants to see you healthy," Jim suggests and spoons more grits and eggs into her mouth. She knows if she had such a comely mother as Eleanora, she'd do all she could to make sure she stuck around for the long haul. She doesn't say this out loud.

"Oh I'm sure he does. But he can be such a pain about it," Eleanora chuckles and takes another long sip of her coffee before she begins to eat. "I suppose he picked that up from me. I'm prone to needle away at people when I'm sure of my rightness. A little warnin' to you."

Jim smiles and chews.

Eleanora tosses a wink back.

Silence sails between them, and Jim finds that she slouches into it with ease. She's not used to this sort of morning pause. Usually by this time she'd still be sleeping off her night shift at the bar and waking up in time to wash it all off so as to begin again in the next few hours.

_But it is nice,_ she thinks as she shoves the rest of her biscuit in her mouth. _I never had it like this. This must be what 'home' feels like._

Something chimes and pings.

Jim amusedly watches as Eleanora frowns and sets down her cup.

Eleanora rises from her seat with some grumbling and swipes two fingers up across the communicator pad infused on the refrigerator door. She studies the name with some thought before she rolls her eyes. "My God, it's not even ten—what could that woman possibly want?"

Jim wipes her mouth clean with a napkin and scrapes her plate clean into a nearby garbage pail. She dumps the empty plate into a sink full of dishwater. "Should I—" she starts, making a gesture to the sink.

Eleanora waves her hand in a distracted fashion. "Don't worry about that—I'll sort it out myself. You can go get started in the fields. You'll find a steel cart and a handful of baskets at the bottom of the porch steps." She cuts a quick look to the communicator screen again before she rolls her eyes and continues, "Now I'm assumin' you never picked apples for a day's work. You got any idea how to tell if they'll be ready to come down?"

"Color, ease of separation, fruit drop, softness and flavor," Jim lists. She used to read up on all types of fruit back when she was younger—especially apples. Read what you love right? "Also, I heard location on the tree matters."

Eleanora looks at her with a new line of amused respect. "Fruits on the southern side of the tree often ripen sooner than those that get less sun," she expands, agreeably. "Color, both outside and under the skin, is a useful indication of maturity. Apples may be yellow, red, green or combinations of these colors at harvest. When the green has almost completely given way to yellow, a yellow variety is mature. With red blush or striped apples, the area where there is no red color usually changes from green to yellowish at maturity. You're gonna find all types out there."

_Ping. Ping. Ping._

"Dear Lord in heaven, I'm gonna strangle this woman," Eleanora mutters as she places her hands on her hips with a stern frown. "Go on now, Jamie. I don't want you to see my disagreeable nature."

Jim chuckles and gives her a thumbs-up before she escapes through the backdoor and down the squeaking wooden steps. It doesn't take her long to spot the steel flatbed cart Eleanora was referring to. Beside it is a stockpile of baskets wide enough to fit over two dozen apples. She stacks as many as she can on the cart before she starts wheeling out down a path that leads to the farthest apple tree she can spot. By the time she reaches said tree, she is sweating and flushed from head to toe.

"God, this sun is killing me," Jim says with an squinty-eyed frown. She swipes the back of her hand across her damp forehead, and she takes a second to finger-comb her hair up into a messy bun at the very top of her head. She stumbles a few times over the scattered masses of fallen apples littered around the trees and through the grass.

A few paces off to the side lay a stable full of beautiful horses. This is where Jim finds a ladder. She takes a few moments going along the rows and observing the horses. They don't stir much in her presence but she doesn't try her luck. She leaves them be and sets the ladder on her first tree. She plops an empty basket at the base, climbs the bars of the ladder, and fingers her way through a plethora of apples, picking the ones that are ripe and dropping them down into the basket below with an audible thump.

Jim works and works, and never once pauses to catch her bearings. They're pretty caught. She's used to doing hard labor without any breaks, but in this case she doesn't mind because this really isn't that much of a hardship. She doesn't honestly believe she'll get every tree sorted and scoured. She has a good dozen under her belt by the time the sun dips fairly low in the sky, but not low enough that it might be considered the late evening.

All the baskets are filled and in light of that fact she decides to take a congratulatory nap. Once she's got the filled baskets all loaded onto the cart, she stretches out under a tree, tucks her laced fingers behind her head and closes her eyes to the sight of bright sunlight bouncing off shiny red apple skin.

When she dreams, she doesn't dream of much besides the twinkling stars and spinning planets. It's peaceful in its own way, like a lullaby.

"_Are you an idiot?_" a deep cranky voice drawls.

Jim frowns as she comes to and peeks a drowsy blue eye open. It takes a minute, but the outline that belongs to the shadow hovering over her is of an tan-skinned, hazel-eyed, bearded handsome man with perfectly parted hair. He's sporting a disapproving scowl as he glares down at her with his arms crossed. She drags her eye away from his appealing face long enough to look at what he's wearing. A white button down (sleeves rolled up at the elbows) tucked into some grey slacks, topped off with a pair of nice leather shoes that match the slim belt around his firm waist.

"No, my name is Jim," she finally answers as she opens both eyes, drags up her knee and crosses her leg over it. "Why? Are you looking for someone called 'idiot'? What an inconvenient name. Their parents must have hated them."

"Why would I be lookin' for someone who has that name?" he retorts with an exasperated glare. A muscle in his nicely defined jaw tics.

"I don't know. You tell me. You're the one that asked," Jim points out as she cocks her head. "What's your name by the way?"

He stares at her for a long moment before he mutters, "Leonard McCoy."

"McCoy? You're Eleanora's son right? The nagging doctor?" Jim questions and then grins innocently when his scowl deepens. "You always call your mother's hired help such disreputable names?"

"Only if they're reckless enough to take a nap in the sun," Leonard snaps back. "You look like you got fair skin. Do you know what that kind of overexposure can do? We're not just talkin' about a heatstroke. How's melanoma and nonmelanoma sound? There's also premature aging of the skin and other problems. Cataracts and eye damage. Immune system suppression—"

Jim begins to quietly laugh.

Leonard stops when he notices and bristles. "Fine. Cook up in the sun. But don't come cryin' to me when you fry right up with nothin' left but your bones."

"Bones huh?"

"I've seen worse," he grumbles with an agitated frown that suits his pouty mouth just fine. "It does happen and I don't need to be bothered by it when I've been so courteous as to warn you."

"Oh scouts honor, Bones," Jim says as she lifts one hand and places the other one over her heart. "I promise not to pester you with my barbequed carcass. I'm sure there are other doctors in this town I could go to anyway. But I'm sure they wont be quite as handsome as you." She shifts her eyebrows once.

Bones pinks. "Very funny, Kid," he mutters. "And do me another favor—don't call me Bones. It's Leonard McCoy."

"I know. I heard you the first time, Bones," Jim teases with a mocking grin.

"Great. Just great," Bones grumbles with a weary sigh as he rubs his forehead.

"Right," Jim drawls with an amused smile. "Listen, not to change the subject or anything but—what are you doing out here? I heard from a little birdy that you're not exactly on speaking terms with your mom."

"What _bird_ is dishin' out my family business like a goddamn soup kitchen?" Bones asks with an annoyed scowl.

Jim has to admit that he looks kind of adorable when he's all riled up like that. "Just a bird. But you didn't answer my question."

"I was concerned," Bones reluctantly admits. "Because my sister-in-law mentioned that she sent some stranger to live and work with my momma. So naturally, I had to come and see for myself. Lord knows that no one else will."

"That's probably because everyone knows that your mother is one helluva woman who doesn't appear to take much shit. _And_," Jim quips as she hops to her feet. "As you can see," she drawls as she does a slow spin with her hands up and level with her shoulders. "I am not some psycho serial killer nor am I some whackadoo."

"Easy there darlin'," Bones sarcastically replies as he spends a quick second eyeing her profile before he stares at her bare feet pointedly. "I don't think we've spent enough time together for me to agree to the kinda person you are."

Jim mouth wiggles before she rolls her eyes. "Good luck with that," she says and brushes past him to go to the cart. She grunts as she uses most of her weight to get the cart moving (it's heavily loaded). It takes a bit of force but she eventually gets it going and aims toward the house.

Bones walks alongside her quietly, and flicks his hazel eyes to her every once in a while.

Jim finds it vaguely amusing.

"How'd you get that black eye?" Bones finally asks, breaking the silence.

"Self-defense," Jim says simply. "I don't go looking for it if that's what you're wondering."

"No, I wasn't wonderin'," Bones says and shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'd like to apologize for bein' rude and presumptuous. I've had a long day."

"It's whatever, Bones. You're just looking after your mom. I can respect that even if I don't have much experience with the concept." Jim tosses him a friendly look before she directs her blue eyes forward again.

Bones mutters something unintelligible. Then he says, "I got a regenerator if you need to sort those bruises out."

"Thanks for the offer, but I kind of like this look. It'll keep people from approaching me for a little while."

Bones looks like he wants to disagree, but he seems to decide to keep things civil for the moment. So he says, "Suit yourself then."

Jim hums and when they finally reach the house, she picks up a basket, climbs the steps, and carries it inside through the open back door.

Eleanora is sitting at the table with a pitcher of lemonade and sandwiches. "How many you get done?" she asks as she grabs three plates. She clearly knows her son is here.

"About a dozen, I think," Jim supposes with a shrug.

"Better than I'd hoped. But don't think I don't know you didn't give yourself a pause in between." Eleanora gives her a stern look. "I advise you to pace yourself next time. It's not a race, and I'm not a perfectionist. I _guaranteed_ you a job and a place to stay. Slavery is over, James, and I'm no slave driver. Please don't treat this like indentured servitude."

Jim flushes with guilt. To keep from feeling awkward, or caught, she asks, "Where should I put this?"

"Just pile those baskets up on the back porch. I have a young man that comes by with crates. We'll pack them up tonight and drive them into town tomorrow, first thing."

"Kay." Jim turns and sets down the basket on one side of the porch, noticing that there are two baskets already there. She treks down the steps to see Bones picking up another basket effortlessly. "Hey, I don't remember asking for help."

"What a coincidence—I didn't offer," Bones merely mutters and sweeps past her, up the steps and sets the basket down next to the other two.

Jim smiles quietly and goes to grab another basket.

They work in silence for the next ten minutes before all the baskets are neatly arranged and sorted out on the back porch.

Jim blows out a breath that sweeps her blonde bangs from her face and she walks into the house, sitting at the table with a reach for a sandwich.

Eleanora smacks her hand away. "Go wash those hands!"

Jim pouts but she gets up and walks to the kitchen sink.

"Not in my kitchen sink either. That's not what it's for," Eleanora nags and gestures to the small bathroom around the corner on the other side of the stairs.

Jim rolls her eyes and marches to the bathroom to wash her hands. When she turns to leave, she almost runs into Bones, and they do this awkward dance around each other. She returns to the kitchen table and sees that Eleanora already filled her plate with a full glass of lemonade.

Bones joins them a minute later and quietly makes his own plate.

Eleanora squints her eyes at him.

Bones pretends not to notice.

"Well?" she finally says. "You come around here after six months of not speakin' to me. You're on the verge of divorce and I gotta hear it from Mrs. Gloria Albright—a woman who I am most discontent with, for she is a smug, insufferable gossip. Oh I can keep goin' boy, so you can fix your face right now. You don't even have the grace to give your momma a hello?"

"Hi," Bones huffs and takes a greedy bite of his sandwich. He winces when she gives him a smack on the back of his head. "Damn it, woman!"

"You watch that mouth. I raised you better than that, damn it," Eleanora warns (quite contradictory) as she picks up a wooden spoon and waves it threateningly at him. "You will talk to and at me like I raised you to talk to me! Grudge or not!"

Bones makes a face and says, "I'm sorry."

Jim snickers and ignores the glare that Bones shoots her way.

"You'd better be sorry. That insufferable wife of yours called me this mornin' lookin' for you. Apparently you had some kind of lunch date together. She's convinced you're pushin' your hand at this divorce and that you don't want to try and make things work," Eleanora says. "I told her you _wouldn't_ be crazy for not tryin'."

Bones snorts but he doesn't say anything else.

Eleanora sighs into her glass of lemonade and she flicks her gaze between Jim and her son. "So. I see you've met James. Did she check out with you or should I let her go now?"

Bones tosses his mother a look. "I was _concerned_. Of course I had to come see," he contends.

Eleanora's hard gaze goes soft and warm all at once, and there is an unspoken calmly love that washes through her expression. She says, "You're forgiven. Come by more often, I'll be less lonelier for it."

"Hey now, I wasn't even given a fighting chance. I'm sure you and I will become the firmest of friends," Jim interjects playfully and smiles when Eleanora chuckles. "You seem to enjoy wine. I, as well, enjoy wine. We're twins practically—soul mates even."

"Now hold on," Bones says with a serious frown as he observes Jim closely. "How old are you?"

"Old enough, I think," Jim lightly supposes with a grin.

"I _think_ you're not a day over sixteen, _Kid_," Bones gripes.

"Oh hush, Leonard," Eleanora rebukes and pats her hand over his. "Leave the girl be. If she says she's old enough than that's more than we oughta know."

"_Thank you_, Eleanora," Jim drawls and tosses Bones a pointed look over the rim of her glass.

Bones just mutters something and polishes off another sandwich.

Eleanora chuckles and rises from her seat. "Excuse me. I think I hear someone comin' up the drive. I do believe it's Mr. Knight." She exits the kitchen to disappear out the front door, which leaves them alone.

Jim finishes up her sandwich and pretends not to notice the darting and speculating looks being sent her way by Bones. When her plate and cup is empty, she takes it to the sink and dumps it into the dishwater before she walks out onto the back porch steps to watch the sun begin to set. She puts her small hands in her back pockets as the dark orange sun descends into the horizon.

Bones joins her, and he doesn't say anything. He watches her watch the sunset, and he doesn't pretend that he's doing anything else besides that.

"They say the sun is new each day," Jim remarks. She presses her fingers to the slight swell of her chin. "I don't see it. At least not how I do with the moon. But that all seems the same to me too. Very predictable."

"Nature's never predictable," Bones debates, finally looking away and off into the distance. "Science makes it predictable. It takes the heart out of it and paints it with logistics and equations and reasonin'. Leaves it cold and dead. Not everythin' can be explained."

"Are you a naturalist, Bones?" Jim questions with cheerful curiosity.

Bones scowls but he doesn't direct it towards her. "No, Kid. I just like to balance the use of my brain and my heart instead of keepin' one without the other," he gruffly explains. He seems a little embarrassed.

Jim doesn't know why. She thinks what he's saying makes sense. "Hey, you're preaching to the converted. I think that too."

Bones snorts, but he also relaxes noticeably.

Jim studies him for a long moment. He really is a handsome man. He looks like the type that wears his heart on his sleeve. That's not exactly common. "I like you," she decides aloud.

Bones blinks and then flushes uncomfortably. "Jesus, Kid. That's, uh, very flattering—"

"Oh my God," Jim laughs and shakes her head. "I said I _like _you. Not that I want to go to town on your dick!"

Bones turns scarlet. "How _old _are you?" he asks, staring at her like she fell right from the sky.

"Spiritually, I feel sixty-five. A very eccentric sixty-five," Jim jokes.

Bones goes right back to scowling, even though his flush hasn't completely died.

"How old are _you_?"

"Too old," Bones complains with a weighty sigh.

Jim takes a moment to study him. "I'd have to guess…" she drawls as she looks at him. "Twenty-three?"

Bones stiffens and slowly looks at her with a mixture of burgeoning regard and suspicion. "You couldn't possibly know that," he decides. "Just what all did my momma tell you about me?"

Jim laughs colorfully and says, "Not enough for me to pretend to guess at your age. I really did pull that one out of thin air. Impressive right?"

Bones looks stuck between a scowl and smile.

Eleanora returns to them with an Asian male who's as tall as the doorway. He's all broad shoulders, chocolate eyes and a killer smile.

Jim's instantly interested.

"James, this is Tomoharu Knight. Tomoharu, this is James Kirk. My new helping hand," Eleanora introduces.

Knight nods politely, a bit timidly, and takes off his hat. His hair is a bit long so he has to finger-comb it out of his face as he says, "Nice to meet you, Ms. Kirk."

Jim flushes for no other reason besides that she just likes the way he says her name. "Hi," she replies stupidly.

Knight just gives a small grin as he wrings his hat between his large palms, brown eyes flicking nervously.

Bones scowls and crosses his arms, clearing his throat.

Knight looks guilty. "Oh, I'm sorry. How are you Len?" he greets.

"Same as always, I suppose," Bones mutters and he straightens. "How's your mother?"

"She's alive to see another day thanks to you," Knight praises with a grateful smile. "I really can't thank you enough for what you did."

Bones just shakes his head grimly. "Didn't really do anythin' no one else in my field would have done," he supposes.

"So modest, this one," Eleanora drawls with an amused look.

Jim is a bit curious, but she's not curious enough to ask. She knows that Bones is a doctor, and a nagger at that, but he must really be something to garner such a grateful expression from a huge man like Knight.

"I'll tell my mother you asked after her," Knight goes on to say. "I'm sure she'll be extendin' a dinner invitation to you real soon. She's been anxious about gettin' you at her table."

Bones doesn't look any particular way about that but he does give a short nod. He glances at his mother and then to Jim before looking away. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his slacks again before he mutters, "Guess I should get goin'."

Eleanora immediately frowns. "Hush, boy. I'll hear none of the such. You'll stay here," she decides.

Bones's expression turns absolutely mutinous.

"Don't start," Eleanora warns. The she gentles her tones, "You're gonna go back to Dixie's place and you gonna get your things and come right back. You're stayin' with me until you get everything sorted all out, you hear?"

Bones looks distinctly uncomfortable and bolstered. It's quite a feat really. He says, "Yes, ma'am."

Eleanora looks to Jim and Knight. "Excuse me. I'll be seein' my son out. Won't be but a moment," she promises before she curls her fingers over Bones's shoulders and gives him a sort of forceful shove through the doorway.

They speak in hushed tones as they disappear from sight.

Knight wrings his hat with a bit of awkward shyness.

"So," Jim starts. "Eleanora said something about crates?"

Knight looks relieved and he nods. "I've got a stack in my truck. I'll grab them."

Jim watches him go before she walks over to the baskets of apples. She picks up a yellowish-green one, takes a moment to toss it up and down before she takes a juicy bite, sighing in satisfaction at the sweet/sour taste that hits her tongue.

"Don't let Ms. Eleanora see you pinchin' off the apples meant to be sold. She's real particular about that," Knight warns but with a good-natured smile.

Jim nods and swipes the back of her hand against her wet mouth.

Knight sets down a few wooden crates made of light brown plywood. The insides are lined with saran wrap. He explains, "It's to keep them from bein' too bruised. And also protects them from all the critters."

"Sensible," Jim reasons and she watches the way he packs the first crate with apples. It's like a gentle work—a sort of dance of fingers and fruit. There's a carful alignment in the way he does it and Jim can see it takes a great deal consideration in the size and the angles and how it all fits. She doesn't know why she likes that. It's almost comforting in a way to watch the way it all stacks together and fits like some kind of fruit puzzle. Jim smiles a little.

Knight catches the smile and he flushes before he quickly straightens as he ducks his gaze. "Well, um, I suppose that's it then. Not too hard, don't think," he mutters as he looks down at his work.

"No, it's perfect," Jim compliments. "Almost intimidating."

Knight laughs a bit ruefully as he rubs the back of his neck with one hand while the other taps the rim of his hat against the side of his leg. "Yeah. Sure. Maybe," he concedes. He clears his throat as he drops his hand and wrings his hat between his large palms again. He glances noticeably at her black eye. "So, if you don't mind me bein' too curious—you're new to town. So I heard at least. Not that I bother with rumor, mind you. I just—well word gets around whether you mean to hear or not."

Jim shrugs neutrally as she grabs a crate and starts mimicking the work she saw Knight do with the apples. It's not easy, she has to keep doing it over before she can recognize which size apples fit better with others and so on. As she does so, she admits, "It is true. I'm not from here. I think it's my lack of accent that makes me a dead giveaway. Plus Dixie—you know her right—well she said I don't have the smell." She laughs a little as she recalls.

Knight snorts as he hunches down and attempts to help her. "Yeah, Dixie's prone to say things like that. I wouldn't pay it all to mind." He gives Jim a disarming grin before he ducks his gaze again. "So if you aren't from here, where are you from?"

Jim doesn't even pause as she says, "Cabbage patch. I'm a Cabbage Patch Kid. Well, not so much a kid anymore. More like a Cabbage Patch Adult."

Knight chokes on something between an exasperated laugh and the beginnings of denial. "Oh, Ms. Kirk. I'm not sure how we seem, but we ain't all that naïve," he points out, southern drawl receding into something less formal and into a warm familiarity.

Jim takes a note of that. She'd kind of noticed that with Bones. He hadn't quite talked to her like she was a stranger, but—well she's not sure what to peg that man as. She says, "What about you? Where are you from?"

"Certainly not a cabbage patch," Knight quips as he pushes in the last apple into the crate. "But I am from here. My parents aren't, though. My father's from Beijing and my mother's from the Philippines."

"That must be an interesting clash of cultures," Jim supposes as she watches Knight fix the lids to both the full crates.

Knight gives a nodding shrug. "Never had a dull childhood, suffice to say," he admits. But he smiles gorgeously as he thinks on it. "My mother's a carpenter and my father manages Savannah's biggest library. The Hudson Hill Library. I work with him when I'm not delivering furniture for my mother or here giving Eleanora a hand."

"Ah, so that explains why you're so good at stacking these apples and fitting them inside such a confined space," Jim reasons with a grin as she grabs another crate and begins piling in more apples.

Knight moves to stand on his knees opposite her and they work in tandem. "I suppose you could say so. Doesn't really make me all that grand with the software at the library though. I can manually organize the books, sure, but…" He trails off with a thoughtful frown.

"Software, huh?" Jim says. "Well, I'm a bit of a whiz kid when it comes to technology. I can see if I can minimalize the effort on your part and make it easier to enter and log things into a manageable database."

"Oh, I wouldn't wanna bother you with that, Ms. Kirk. Really," Knight says, concerned. "I've got a minor degree in digital cataloguing, and really I _should _know what to do but—I just really can't get the hang of it. Wave of the future as they say, but I'm still building my raft by hand, pardon the metaphor."

"Listen," Jim says and places her hand on his wrist to catch his eye. "If I say it's not a problem, then I'm pretty sure that roughly translates as not being a problem. I'm not just an apple picker, you know. We Cabbage Patch Adults have multi-faceted talents."

That earns a laugh and Knight still looks unsure but he eventually nods. "Okay, then. But I do insist on repayment," he firmly states. "I refuse to have you help for free."

"If you're dead set on paying me off, who am I to argue?" Jim counters with a sly smile that makes a wild blush spread across Knight's face.

Knight stammers before he quickly pulls his wrist from her grip and nods. "Good. Yes. Um. T-Tomorrow, we uh, we could get to—to do that—to work, I mean. Thank you, Ms. Kirk."

Jim's smile shrinks into a small grin. "Call me Jim," she urges.

"Oh, um—" Knight looks uncertain about that.

Jim wonders if all the men in this town are so old-fashioned and gentlemanly, because if so—well, she might stick around for a bit longer. You know, just to corrupt a few of the natives and all that.

Knight swallows and looks two seconds away from fleeing at the lecherous smirk that begins to spread across Jim's lovely face.

Eleanora reappears and glances between the two of them before she rolls her eyes. "Good Lord, Jamie. Don't scare the boy half to death with those pretty blues of yours. _Behave_," she warns as she gently slaps Jim's right cheek a few times.

Jim laughs and rubs her hand over the spot before she goes back to packing.

Eleanora notes their progress with the apples with approval. "Well I see you showed her how it's done then, Tomoharu. Saved me a headache," she murmurs.

Jim scoffs. "Totally resent that, Eleanora. I'm a quick study."

Eleanora just makes a thoughtful sound. "Now I expect you'll be able to drop this off at the post for me, Tomo. I'm already a day and a half late. I don't need anyone callin' and kickin' up a fuss."

"Yes ma'am, Mrs. McCoy," Knight guarantees. "I already spoke with Robin. He knows I'll be swingin' by and he promised to keep open a little while longer to push your shipments through."

"Oh, good," Eleanora says simply. She pauses briefly before she adds, "Suppose I oughta help you with this then. Jim, you go grab my purse."

Jim thinks to protest because she's starting to get really good at this, but one firm look from Eleanora makes her swallow down her reply. She stands and moves to search for a black bag she finds on the table in the foyer. She hands it over when she returns to the back porch.

Eleanora relays her gratefulness before she wanders off into the kitchen, motioning for Jim to follow.

Jim tucks her hands in her back pockets as she waits for what ever it is that Eleanora is trying to do.

Eleanora finally pulls free a credit card and presents it to Jim. "Here," she says.

Jim looks at it.

"Take it."

Jim looks at her.

"You need clothes. You can't keep wearin' the same outfit day in and day out like a cartoon character."

Jim immediately straightens out her expression into something neutral. She's trying not to feel offended. "Why not? You've got a washer and dryer."

"Don't be dull. It is certainly not becoming," Eleanora scoffs. "What kind of woman would I be if I let you go on like that?"

Jim looks away and shrugs to hide how uncomfortable she feels. "I'll live. I've—survived on less. I can make it work or whatever."

"James—"

"I'm not really your problem," Jim firmly interjects. "And anyway, I'd eventually earn enough to buy my own clothes."

"I am completely of aware of that, James," Eleanora calmly counters. "But in the mean time, I'm offerin' to give you somethin' else to work with. I'm not gonna take this out of your earnings. I'm not gonna hold you to it. I don't even expect anythin' back besides what you've already been doin'. This is somethin' from me to you. Point and blank."

"I'm not a charity case," Jim argues.

"No. You're not. But you are unnecessarily prideful," Eleanora says as she grabs Jim's hand and slaps the card in her hand. "This is me tellin' you to go and do somethin' for yourself without the expectation that I'll want somethin' back from you or that you're indebted to me or whatever nonsense is runnin' circles in that pretty head of yours. Now buck up, Jamie. Say thank you and we'll speak no more of it. Ain't nothin' wrong with acceptin' a bit of kindliness from a well-intentioned individual. The sooner you understand that, the better it'll be for the two of us."

Jim doesn't say anything, but she does curl her small fingers around the card.

That seems to be enough for Eleanora. "Well then. It's early enough. There'll be a good amount of shops open. I'm sure you know what you like so I won't bother to make any suggestions. Take my truck. The door will be open for you when you come back and dinner should be good and ready by then."

Jim nods quietly.

"Since you worked so hard today, I'll finish up with Tomoharu. Just this once," Eleanora says with a slight smile. "Go on now."

Jim finds Eleanora's black pickup truck around the side of the house. Sitting behind the wheel, Jim feels somewhat small but a bit like one of those monster truck drivers. She reigns in the urge to finds some dirt hills and run amuck, choosing to just take the fifteen minute trip to town. She finds a spot to park and eases onto the sidewalk, taking care to observe her surroundings.

**_Cikala Closet_**

Jim enters the shop and smiles secretly at the way the bell tolls over her head. She glances around and takes in dream catchers hanging from the ceiling, the smoky atmosphere, the hunting gear and bowstrings and arrows hanging along the walls. There are birdcages full of hawks at each corner of the room. On the main floor is sliver racks lined with denim, leather, and other bohemian and indie clothing.

"You see something you like?" a voice says to her immediate right.

Jim almost jumps out of her skin as she sends a mild glare to an older man with yellow-brown skin, salt and pepper hair braided with a feather on the end and smiling hazel eyes. "You almost gave me a heart attack," she mutters.

"So sorry," he says with a bland tone. "I've had two of those myself. Would not wish it on anyone."

Jim blinks and crosses her arms over her chest.

"My name is Ohanzee," he introduces. He taps his chestnut cane into the ground before he uses it to limp to the front of the store. "I am not very good with customers, or as my granddaughter likes to tell me so. The many lines on my face, perhaps, make me seem intimidating."

Jim watches him limp behind the counter and grab a pack of cigarettes hidden in a small box with a triumphant sound. She smiles a little.

Ohanzee notices and he smirks. "She thought she could hide it from me. But I know her as well as I know…" He pauses with a frown as he looks up. "I should feed the birds," he remarks as he shoves a single cigarette and lights it. He looks to her. "You must be the new stranger everyone has been chattering about."

Jim shrugs and eases over to a clothes rack.

"Don't worry. I won't bother you about that," Ohanzee promises as he settles down in a rocking chair. "When I moved from the mountains, they treated me like a stranger. Even though, generations ago, my people and our tribes worked this soil and lived in what used to be, what I can imagine, a vast amount of woodland areas that this town has now cut through. My granddaughter rolls her eyes every time I try to tell her the stories. She fusses about the past and looking to the future, but I say that old wounds never heal. There are only scars to remind what once was."

Jim silently agrees as she sorts through a rack of denim shorts and tank tops. The smell of ash reaches her in no time.

"Can I trouble you for a name?" Ohanzee petitions.

Jim bends down for a pair of beige cowboy boots and calls out, "Jim."

"Jim," Ohanzee echoes. "Short for James, must be. Like the king."

Jim smiles. "Yeah. Like the king."

"You must be royalty," Ohanzee murmurs as he taps his cane into the floor with an amused tone.

"Hardly," Jim laughs as she peeks at him from over the tops of clothes rack. She grabs a few more shirts and skirts before she goes to one of the dressing rooms, pulling the curtain back for privacy.

"Not royalty," Ohanzee says. "What would you consider yourself then?"

Jim starts trying on clothes. She says, "More like a wanderer."

"Ah, the traveler. I sensed that about you," Ohanzee claims. "I have the gift of discernment. I can read people rather well, among other things." He goes on to say, "For instance, I know there is a very unpleasant thing headed our way."

The entrance bell chimes, followed by the sharp, unforgiving click of pumps.

Jim frowns as she listens.

Ohanzee says, "Mrs. McCoy. What do I owe this pleasant visit?"

A woman scoffs and Jim immediately knows it's not Eleanora by the scornfulness in it. The woman says, "Spare me your _native_ pleasantries, Mr. Blackfeet."

"It's pronounced _Sihasapa_," Ohanzee curtly corrects.

"It's translated," the woman carelessly replies. "More easily pronounced this way."

"Ah, I see," Ohanzee says. "I would prefer you stick with the original version, _Jocelyn_."

Jim quietly changes back into her original set of clothes.

"I did not come here to debate with you. I came here to discuss an important business matter with your granddaughter." Jocelyn pauses. "Where is Zonta?"

"Far away from the likes of you. I warned her you were coming and she took an immediate holiday with our family in Alaska," Ohanzee calmly reports. "Hard to tell when she will be back. May be three full moons before she migrates to town again.

Jocelyn just hums and clicks away.

Jim steps out of the dressing room with her clothes and shoes and dumps it on the front counter. She glances at Jocelyn, a slim but curvy woman, who seems to be measuring the dimensions of the shop with some measuring tape. She's wearing a white pencil skirt, grey silk blouse and leather pumps. Her hair is dark auburn, neatly pressed straight, shiny and cut to fall right around her delicate chin. Her full lips are painted with dark purple lipstick, while her mint green eyes are lined with smoky eye shadow, which only adds to her sort of malevolent aura. She's like a modern wicked witch or something, which is kind of funny but not because this must be the infamous woman that Bones is trying to divorce.

_Holy hell, good luck with that you poor bastard, _Jim thinks as Ohanzee begins to ring her up.

In a freak coincidence, as soon as the thought passes from Jim's mind, Jocelyn's devious green eyes tack onto her as the measuring tape in her hand snaps back. Her dark purple lips twist into a smirk that's at the borderline of being a sneer. "What do we have here?" her sultry voice says rhetorically. She clicks over and stands before Jim with judgmental eyes. "Ms. Kirk, I presume. You're the farmhand staying with my mother-in-law."

Any respect Jim might have given to this woman shrivels up and dies. She replies, "I'm sorry. How exactly is it that you know me, Miss…" she trails off purposefully.

Jocelyn's expression flattens out into something unpleasantly neutral. "_Mrs. _Jocelyn McCoy. I'm acting second to my father, Mayor Treadway," she coolly explains. Her words artfully exude a concealed threat. "So you can say I make it my business to know just what kind of riff raff blows into our quaint little town. Not to mention the fact that you're sharing space with my mother-in-law."

"Oh, well." Jim simply shrugs, playing at ditzy blonde. "Eleanora never mentioned you. I'm sure she meant to though."

Jocelyn's lips tighten only a fraction. "Yes, I'm sure she did," she murmurs before she switches her gaze to Ohanzee. "You tell your granddaughter that I stopped by and no amount of hiding will change Mayor Treadway's mind. This little shop, along with its neighbors, will be bulldozed into the ground come Christmas, whether they should want it or not. We're being very generous by offering a settlement." She gives a cutting smile before she looks to Jim. "You have a nice night, Ms. Kirk. Give _Eleanora _my best." With that, she clicks her way right out of the shop.

Jim makes a face. "What an awful woman. I can literally feel myself being a better person after dealing with her," she comments.

Ohanzee gives a deep chuckle as he bags her clothes. He says, "She's gone now."

Jim frowns in confusion before she hears the sound of footsteps venture from the back and the outline of a woman walks through the doorway of hanging beads.

An olive skinned woman with hazel eyes and long raven hair appears with a tentative smile. "That sounded like it went well," she says with a long sigh.

"She's right," Ohanzee says as settles back in his rocking chair. "You can't keep hiding forever, Zonta."

Zonta makes a face. "God, I know. But that woman is literally the devil," she says. She looks to Jim. "Sorry you had to deal with her firsthand, but there's no way of avoidin' her, mind you."

Jim shrugs. "I've dealt with worse," she admits.

Zonta steals the cigarette from her grandfather's shriveled hand and sucks away at it. "You sure about that? I haven't met a woman yet that could go toe to toe with Jocelyn. Seriously. She's is the bride of Satan." She blows out a puff of smoke.

"Bride of Leonard, actually. But that is only for so long if the rumors are anything to go by," Ohanzee remarks. "He would be smart to get away."

"Oh hush, _tunkašila_," Zonta reprimands but her eyes twinkle much like his does and it is so painstakingly obvious that they are kin. "It's none of our business."

Ohanzee just huffs. "You say that, but I know that you will be the first to give glory to the Great Mother and you'll try your hand at his heart because _maĥpiya_ knows you have been in love with that boy since high scho—"

"_Tunkašila_! Please! Spare me!" Zonta cries as she flushes. She quickly rings up Jim, swearing and muttering under her breath.

Jim fights against an amused smile as she hands over Eleanora's credit card.

Zonta clears her throat and says, "Thank you so much for your patronage. Please come again."

"Sure," Jim says as she grabs her bags. She pauses before she turns and continues, "You know, I met Bon—_Leonard_—and I have to say, you wouldn't be a fool for trying."

Zonta splutters as Ohanzee gives a hearty laugh.

Jim smiles beautifully as she winks at them both before she swaggers out of the shop. She climbs into Eleanora's pick-up truck and drives back to the house and ends up parking alongside a sleek, black mustang. She figures it must belong to Bones and she internally approves of his choice in cars as she grabs all her bags and makes her way up the porch steps. She walks through the front door and smells the pleasant aroma of food. She sets her bags down at the base of the steps and goes to investigate.

Eleanora is pulling a mouthwatering casserole free from the oven and setting it down on top. When she spots Jim lingering in the doorway, she says, "Did you get what you needed?"

"I did," Jim says and hands over her credit card. "I—um. Just, uh, thank you."

Eleanora waves her off. "You go get washed up. Dinner will still be waitin' for you when you're all settled," she promises.

Jim is all too happy to oblige, if only to escape the awkwardness she feels. She carries her bags up the steps and to her room, pausing in her doorway as she hears the quiet creaks of footsteps from across the hall and behind the door opposite to hers. She figures that must be Bones's room. She twists her mouth thoughtfully before she kicks her door shut with her left foot. She hangs most of her clothes up in the closet, and places the rest in some of the drawers of the dressers. She kicks off her shoes and places them with the others at the base of the closet before she treks into her bathroom for a shower.

Fifteen minutes later, she's detangling her wet hair before she braids it down the middle of her head before tying the end. She puts on a pair of plaid pajama shorts and a tank top (no bra) just because it really is quite warm in the house, what with the lack of air conditioning, and she waltzes barefoot to the kitchen.

Eleanora rolls her eyes, but she doesn't look surprised by Jim's lack of shoes. "Sit down, I'll make you a plate," she says.

Bones is already sitting at the table and tucking into his plate of food. He glances up briefly to acknowledge Jim before his attention is turned to his food again. He's dressed a little more casually now—dark jeans and a t-shirt with some boots.

Jim tries not to stare but she just finds it so unfair that he can make anything look good. And to add to her grievances, it appears that he's shaved, which makes his more comely features all the more blatant. She sighs and crosses her legs when she sits down.

Eleanora sits down a plate with casserole and cornbread in front of Jim.

Jim gives a murmur of gratitude before she begins to eat.

"So what stores did you find yourself in?" Eleanora asks as she pours herself a glass of white wine.

Jim declines when offered and says, "Cikala Closet."

Eleanora smiles briefly and asks, "Got to know Zonta and her grandfather, hm?"

"Yeah, they were very friendly," Jim assures and Eleanora nods. She looks at Bones then away before she adds, "And I sorta ran into Jocelyn."

Bones's fork screeches unpleasantly against his plate, causing Eleanora and Jim to wince.

Eleanora takes a hefty sip of wine. "What exactly—how was it?"

"Well," Jim starts, really choosing her words carefully because Bones is staring at her with this intense expression on his face. She squirms and continues, "No one died?"

Eleanora snorts and shakes her head fondly.

Bones doesn't look quite so amused. "Do you think you could be a bit more specific than that, Kid?"

"Oh, so you do speak," Jim retorts with a grin and it spreads into a smile as he glares at her. "Well I got the impression from her that she likes to eat children. But seriously, she just came off a bit cold and unpleasant."

Bones relaxes slightly. "That sounds like Jocelyn," he mutters. "What'd she say to you?"

Jim shrugs and takes a bite of her cornbread. "Called me a farmhand and riff raff, which, I mean, I didn't even know people used those terms anymore. I would've laughed if I wasn't busy being offended." She shrugs again. "So I pretended like I didn't know who she was and that Eleanora never once mentioned her. You know, petty stuff like that."

Bones's lips curl slightly. "I'm sure she didn't take too kind to that," he supposes, sounding heavily amused.

"Well, you know, if looks could kill…" Jim smiles as she eats some more of the casserole on her plate.

"That woman—if there's one thing she prides herself on," Eleanora says. "It's her reputation. Good or bad."

"All fairytale villains usually do," Jim mutters and that earns an identical snort from Eleanora and Bones. "Judgments aside, she is pretty hot."

Bones chokes.

Jim pretends to be concerned. "You okay?"

Bones glares at her.

"What?" Jim widens her eyes innocently. "I'd let her kidnap me to her evil layer and tie me up so she can—"

"You watch that filthy mouth of yours, James," Eleanora smoothly interjects. "I won't have you spoutin' smut at my table."

"Pardon me. I'll just write it out in my diary tonight," Jim cleverly counters and laughs when Eleanora gives her a playful glare. She watches as Eleanora goes to the oven, where she has an apple pie on.

Bones looks like he's swallowed something sour.

"What was Jocelyn doin' at that shop anyway?" Eleanora asks.

"From the sounds of it, being kind of thuggish and threatening to knock the whole block down on behalf of her father, Mayor Treadway. Which, I have to say, raises some interesting questions about what kind of man he is. I mean, Dixie seems to be the most pleasant of that family, but I don't know if that's luck or if it's just Jocelyn that's the bad apple."

Eleanora shakes her head as she carries the pie out to the back porch to cool down.

"No," Bones replies. He grabs a napkin and wipes his mouth clean before he stands to wash his plate in the sink. "If Jocelyn is considered cold and unpleasant, it's really nothin' compared to her father. That man could swing talk an innocent man into confessin' to a murder that happened six galaxies out of his reach."

Jim ties not to sigh at the metaphor, as useful as it may be, she's not fond of them. "When you put it like that, I kind of want to meet him," she jokes.

Bones dries his plate and sets it in the dish rack. "Trust me, Kid. You don't want to–_good God woman!_"

Jim frowns. "What?"

Eleanora returns with the pie and she pauses in the doorway as she stares at Jim. "Jamie, sweetheart. You wouldn't happen to have any food allergies you _neglected to mention_?"

Jim's expression turns into something sheepish and she scratches the side of her neck as she feels her eyes water while her lips begin to swell painfully. "Um," she says as causally as she can manage, even though her throat is tightening. She chokes, "I might have a few."

Bones swears colorfully as he dashes from the kitchen and up the stairs.

Jim begins to wheeze as her tongue starts to swell behind her teeth.

Eleanora quickly sets down the pie and cups her hands under Jim's reddening jaw to tip her head back. "Open your mouth dear, let me have a look," she softly urges.

Jim obediently opens her mouth as she breathes hoarsely.

Eleanora looks fairly concerned and agitated. She steps back without a word when Bones returns with his medical tricorder and a hypospray.

Bones jabs her in the side of her neck.

Jim jumps and yelps. "Ow! Fucker!"

"Call me Doctor," Bones simply retorts, unmoved by her spiteful glare. "You can breathe now, can't ya?"

Jim grumbles as he waves his medical wand around her face and neck.

Bones frowns at the results that pop up on his PADD. Without looking away from the readings, he says, "My mother's gonna give a list of her ingredients and you're gonna point to which of them you're allergic to."

Jim's mouth twists unhappily as she crosses her arms. She looks to Eleanora expectantly.

Eleanora shakes her head as she runs through all the contents of her casserole and cornbread.

Jim calls attention to at least _fifteen_ different things that she's allergic.

Bones scowls at her. "You got a death wish, Kid? This is somethin' you mention to the people you live with," he rebukes.

Jim shrugs. "If I did, then she'd just be weird about it."

Eleanora looks like she wants to brain Jim with a pot. "Dear Lord, James. I'd rather cut back on a few things than watch you leave this house in a body bag. Now you're gonna write out a list for me and I'll manage the best way I can."

"But—" Jim tries not to blush but she does. "I—it's not fair to do that to you because there's a lot that I'm—I just—"

"I don't have time for your fool excuses," Eleanora says. "You write that goddamn list or I will shake it out of you."

Jim snaps her mouth shut and nods quickly.

Eleanora smiles. "Good. Pie?"

Jim nods again.

Bones just stares at her like he's not sure what to make of her or what to do with her. He says, "Who's your main physician?"

"Don't have one," Jim mutters and tries not fidgeting under his heavy gaze.

Bones's scowl deepens. "Well you got one now. First thing in the mornin', you and I are goin' down to my clinic and I'm screenin' you for every test I can think of."

"Oh?" Jim says and she gives him a mutinous look. "Even a pap smear?"

Bones does bat an eye. "I've got a colleague I work with that is certified to do that procedure, so don't think you can use your gender against me." He straightens as he goes back to studying her readings. "It's a miracle you've survived this long with these fool habits of yours."

Jim rolls her eyes and thanks Eleanora for the piece of pie she sets before her. She ignores the way they both watch her carefully as she eats it. She makes sure she gives them both a pointed look after she takes the last bite with no incident.

Bones looks quietly amused before he moves to exit the house.

Jim watches as he disappears in the shadows of the trees. "Where's he going?"

"Probably to ride that wily horse of his," Eleanora supposes as she sets a small notepad and pencil before Jim. "Write."

Jim frowns but she does. "He has a horse?"

"I believe I said so."

"What's the horse's name?"

Eleanora levels her with an amused look as she moves to make tea. "I'm sure Leonard is better suited to answer these questions than me, Jamie. Why don't you wait till he comes back?"

Jim shrugs and goes back to penning her food allergies down. She declines when Eleanora offers her a cup of tea and is glad when Eleanora doesn't press to know why. It's an hour and a half before she finishes her list, sourly noting that, "It might not be all of them. There's few I might be unaware of but I think that's all."

Eleanora leaves her alone and takes the list with a satisfied sound, studying the contents with her hazel eyes.

Jim slips from the kitchen and ventures back up to her room. She closes the door behind her and shuffles over to the window, opening it to let the cool summer air filter in. She goes over to the small bookcase lined with books and pulls free one that looks the most interesting. She takes it to bed with her and settles in under the clean linen sheets and begins to read page after page, laughing frequently at the old century humor of it.

She hardly notices the sound of footsteps pausing outside of her door sometime around midnight, too busy laughing to herself about the ironic mishaps of fictional characters.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: _Long time coming, I know. I had to reevaluate the plot and what not. But I think I might know what I want to do with this. So, yeah, gonna get right to the begging for this one. Please comment and review._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Jim's surfing a perfect wave in her dreams before it all goes to hell by the insistent knocking of wood that pierces her subconscious and pulls her into reality. She groans when she looks at the digital clock on her nightstand and sees it's barely even six in the morning. She'd gone to sleep about three hours ago, so what kind of demon was interrupting her well deserved rest?

"Get up, Kid. You and I got a date as I recall."

Bones. Of course.

"Leave me alone," Jim pleads as she slaps a soft pillow over her face. Maybe if she smothers herself to death she wouldn't have to leave bed.

"Can't do that. I gotta make good on my word," Bones claims in that deep, gruff tone of his.

Jim refuses to believe that it's not the worst thing to wake up to and she certainly doesn't find his southern drawl appealing or as attractive as he certainly is. Fuck. "I hate you," she mutters.

Bones somehow hears it. "I don't need you to like me, Kid. I just need you to get up so we can leave. I've got other patients that are in worser shape than you and I sure ain't gonna let any of 'em die because you wanna make like a vampire and avoid daylight," he nags.

"Worser isn't grammatically correct. So you can make like a peacock and fly away."

"Peacocks can't fly."

"Your face can't fly."

"Real mature."

"Like your face."

"Tick, tock, Kid."

"Go away, Bones."

Bones mutters something on the other side of her door and she hears him give a long-suffering sigh like _she's _the problem.

Jim just buries herself deeper in her covers with every intention of falling asleep again. "You want me, you have to come in here and get me. But something tells me that your gentlemanly disposition won't allow you to do something so scandalous as enter a young gorgeous lady's room without, um, what's it called? A chaperone? Yeah. That. You need a chaperone and you don't have one so you wont come in and I'm going back to sleep."

"You are impossible," Bones growls but he doesn't argue the point that she's right and that makes Jim grin victoriously. "Don't think you can just use my _hospitality_ against me because by _kindliness _only stretches so far."

"Blow me."

Bones swears colorfully.

Another set of footsteps walk up to her door and a quick knock, followed by the soft click of her door opening, precedes Eleanora's agitated voice, "I'm trynna sleep and you two are squabblin' like a pair of fussy chickens fightin' over a single rooster. I've had enough of it. I'm not supposed to be up for another three hours. And that's gonna be impossible with you two still in this house frettin' at each other like kids. Now I know my dear son won't be leavin' this house without you and I know you've got no intention of goin' so I'll say this once. You get your ass up, James, and you go with him to the clinic and you _behave _the _hell _out of yourself. You need a doctor, you incessant girl. Especially with all your allergies. You ain't gonna be no liability while I'm alive to say anythin' about it. _Get. Up_."

"Thanks, momma," Bones murmurs and he sounds insufferably smug.

"Leonard, honey, I love you and you are my world, but please do not talk to me until after I get my three hours," Eleanora advises, not unkindly, before she exits and goes back to her room at the end of the hall, closing her door with a soft click.

Jim kicks her legs and sits up, knowing her hair must be an utter mess but she still does her best to glare spitefully at Bones who is leaning against her doorway with his arms crossed and a raised brow. He's wearing some black slacks and a light blue button down with a red tie and it just burns her how much he looks every bit of a handsome doctor as he is. "Get out," she growls.

Bones has the nerve to smirk. "Mornin', sunshine," he merely says. "I'm not actually in your room. My gentlemanly disposition wont allow me to step inside without a chaperone, remember?"

Jim makes a frustrated sound before she throws a well-aimed pillow at his stupidly attractive face.

Bones skillfully dodges, and grabbing her doorknob, he says, "I'll be downstairs when you've dolled up." He closes the door behind him.

Jim makes a face at her door, wishing it was him instead so she could show him how not okay this entire thing was. She eventually sighs and tosses her bare feet onto the chilled floorboards, making her way to the closet so that she can get an outfit for the day. She decides on a pair of (completely tasteful) light blue denim cutoff shorts with a black tank top under a large pink/black plaid shirt, rolling up the sleeves so that they rest around her elbows. She tosses on some pink socks before shoving her feet into a pair of beige cowboy boots. She brushes her hair out so that she can redo her Dutch braid.

Jim exits her room and skips down the steps while she uses her small fingers to neaten the wily hairs of her eyebrows.

Bones is waiting by the front door with a slight scowl and impatient look.

Jim just shrugs innocently.

Bones rolls his eyes before he glances at his watch and gestures for her to follow.

They climb into his sleek black mustang a moment later and Jim tries not squirm happily in his leather seats but it's useless. "How is it that you have good taste in cars but poor bedside manner?" she asks when she can't take the quiet.

Bones keeps his hazel eyes on the road as he drives and replies, "I'm not blind, nor am I stupid. I know a good thing when I see it."

Jim makes a slight face and opens her mouth.

Bones beats her to it because he sends her a quick glare, and says, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't."

Jim goes for innocent as she looks away. "What?" she says. "You don't even know what I was going to say?"

"I imagine it would've had something to do with my wife," Bones retorts. He goes all broody and silent as his tan hands grip his steering wheel. "She wasn't always like how she is now. Trust me. There was…" He stops himself from saying whatever it was he wanted to say before he reaches for the radio and turns it on, signaling his want to end the conversation.

Jim feels bad when she feels just the edge of his downtrodden mood fill the car. She's starting to recognize that his marriage is a very sensitive subject for him, and so she makes a mental note to avoid it at all costs, lest she give him a reason to hate her or something. And honestly, she doesn't think she'd like to be placed on his black list. Try as she may to annoy him or rattle him, she's only testing his limits to see what she should and shouldn't do.

Bones glances at her once and a while during the drive, he's probably surprised that she's capable of being quiet for an extended period of time.

Jim's merely looking out the window and memorizing the route he's taking for future reference. She notes that the ride is thirty minutes long and the quickest route is to just cut through town and follow the same road out for another fifteen minutes—so fifteen minutes to get through town and fifteen minutes to reach the near border of Hudson Hill.

**_McCoy Medical Center_**

Bones pulls up to a sizeable brick building that looks large enough to be some kind of grade school or small library. The landscape around the clinic is pretty well done and it looks nice and quaint and welcoming.

Jim's not really all that used to that. Not that she frequents hospitals or clinics or anything since the days of her youth. But she has to admit that even the overall impression of the place has a sort of charm to it like everything else in Hudson Hill. She says, "You own this place, huh?"

Bones gets all uncomfortable and his expression is a bit constipated in a way that Jim isn't sure what to make of it. "Not, uh, not really—my dad, he—" he pauses to clear his throat. "His father's father's brother built the place. It's kind of been in the family for good while now. I'm just lookin' after it because none of my other cousins want to and the ones that do aren't old enough to know their left from their right."

"I don't know about that," Jim says as she saddles up beside him. "Twenty-three years old with a medical degree and you seem pretty sure of yourself."

Bones snorts bitterly at that. "Trust me, darlin'. I manage only by the grace of God and nothin' less. Though I suppose it helps that I have the steadiest hands this side of the planet," he remarks and holds up his hands for a mere second before he tucks them away in the pockets of his slacks. He looks away from her and to the building with a thoughtful frown.

Jim senses that there's something more to all this. For whatever reason, he isn't being all the way about it, but she doesn't push the topic, knowing what good it would certainly _not_ do. She crosses her arms and rocks on her heels. "So, here's the thing," she says and grins under his gaze. "If I'm going to be your guinea pig for only who knows how long, then I should at least get some compensation out of."

Bones lifts his eyebrow and it's amazing how well he can pull that off without seeming ridiculous. "Compensation?" he echoes in that brusque tone of his. "What did you have in mind?"

Jim tucks her hands in the back pockets of her shorts as she rocks on her heels again. "Oh, I don't know. I'm sure it will come to me. I just need you to agree that you'll comply with whatever kind of request I petition you with," she says.

Bones's mouth twists wryly. "It's not gonna get me sent to jail is it? Blood doesn't have to be spilt? I'm not gonna have to go and dig up a grave, am I? Poison an enemy of yours? Pay off some kind of drug dealer? Well, you know, you can stop me anytime. The fact that you haven't is making me just a tad bit nervous, Kid."

Jim laughs and gives him a friendly punch in the shoulder. "You are too funny, Bones. And no to all of that. It's not even in the realm of those possibilities," she promises. She turns and walks towards the sliding glass double doors, but not without adding, "But the fact that you seem open to doing any of that really does put me at ease."

Bones mutters something as he follows after her, which only causes her to snicker.

Jim eyes the inner decorum of the clinic, noting the polished pale blue linoleum floors which smell of lemon cleaners. The beige colored walls are lined with framed abstract pictures. The waiting area has cushioned chairs being used by a manner of old and young patients who sit beside small coffee tables ruled with magazines and newspapers. All the nurses are behind a u-shaped counter and they move to and fro with virtual files and hyposprays and cocktailed pills in small cups and blood samples and urine samples and so on and so forth.

Yup. It's a clinic all right, and Jim is already itching to leave.

A light brown skinned woman in duck yellow scrubs with a black hijab wrapped around her head and around her neck approaches them. She says, with a slightly accented voice, "Oh, Dr. McCoy. I am happy you're here."

"Pleased as punch to be here, Asiyah," Bones drawls.

Asiyah smiles and continues, "Dr. Robert McCoy called in sick. Dr. Páciga and Dr. Mulholland have already taken on as many patients as they can, including their own. Dr. Becker is running late and she said to inform you that she needs you to confirm her findings on Mr. Chatterjee's blood work. We are pretty backed up as you can see."

Bones nods grimly as he glances around at the overflowing waiting room. "Put Mr. Chatterjee's file on my desk and I'll have a look. Then I'll see what I can do about lightening the occupancy load we got goin'. In the meantime," he says and gestures to Jim. "I'm takin' on a new patient. Get her all sorted out and help her with the paperwork. Put Dr. Becker on as a co-adviser. I wanna get her screened for every test I can think of."

Asiyah looks quietly amused as she glances to Jim. "Why? Did she do something to upset you, Dr. McCoy?"

Jim smiles at that.

Bones scowls. "Ha, ha. Very funny. Let's all tease Dr. McCoy for just tryin' to do his job," he grumbles as he walks away and begins greeting the patients in the waiting area.

"Pleasant man," Jim says as Asiyah grins.

"He really is a kind man," Asiyah offers. "He likes to pretend that he's unpleasant but we all know the truth. You're lucky to have him as a doctor. He is good at what he does."

Jim follows her over to the reception desk. She says, "I know he is. Doesn't mean I'm not going to _tease _him for just trying to do his job."

Asiyah laughs as she rummages for something in a few drawers. "His cousin, Robert, is just the same. He likes to mess with him at every available opportunity," she confesses before she hands Jim a transparent template with a stylus pen. "You can fill out your information and wait where you like until you are called. Ill see what I can do about making sure that you're seen as quickly as possible, especially if Dr. McCoy was serious about the tests."

"I've got a bad feeling in my gut that says he was. And thanks," Jim says as she takes the template and the pen to some unseemly corner.

Filling out her general information and her medical history turns out to be the most boring of all questionnaires. She has half of a mind to just chuck it all on the floor and hitch a ride back to the McCoy apple orchard.

Two hours of it and Jim is seriously considering doing just that.

Luckily (or unluckily), Asiyah comes and finds her while she's staring wistfully at all the sugary confections of a nearby vending machine. Asiyah drags her away and to a private room where she makes Jim change into a stiff blue hospital gown.

Jim ties it off the best she can before she sits on the edge of the biobed and lets Asiyah take her blood before hooking her up to an IV line, and because she bruises easily, she asks Asiyah to do it on the back of her left hand.

The next two hours is filled with Asiyah (as well as different random nurses) coming and going, taking different samples from her and thanking her for her patience.

When she reaches the three-hour mark, an older woman who looks to be in her late forties with toffee colored hair and coffee brown skin enters the room with a polite smile. She's holding Jim's virtual file and she's wearing a magenta dress with a white lab coat. She says, "Hello, Ms. Kirk. My name is Dr. Yolanda Becker. You can call me Yolanda or you can call me Dr. Becker, whatever makes you comfortable, sweetheart. I can understand if you a bit ornery with everythin' and everybody. I see in your file that that ole perfectionist Dr. McCoy is havin' you screened for every test known to mankind. I bet ya tired, huh? How long you been here, sugah?"

Jim straightens as she folds her hands on her lap. "About six hours maybe." She laughs a little tiredly. "I lost track I think."

Dr. Becker chuckles warmly as she reaches for a leather-cushioned stool and wheels it over to plop herself right in front of Jim with a sigh. She looks up at Jim from over her glasses and says, "Now I can't say I fault him for it because this is somethin' we have a tendency to do when a patient don't really have a concrete medical background or main physician. Now I'm the gyno-obstetrics specialist in this clinic and Dr. McCoy felt it'd be more comfortable for you if I was the one to do a more thorough physical exam. That alright with you, sugah?"

Jim nods wordlessly.

"Okay, now. Before I start askin' all the uncomfortable questions," Dr. Becker says as she looks down at Jim's file. "I want you to know that anythin' we discuss can stay between you and I. I don't have to relay anythin' you feel is personal or private to Dr. McCoy, even if he is your main physician. I'm still a partial medical advisor, so you can think of it as joint custody. Sometimes I'll be more privy to information and sometimes he'll be more privy to information. Understand?"

Jim just nods.

"Well, then. Let's get to it."

Another half hour later, Dr. Bones McCoy finally shows his damn face.

Jim is grumpy and tired and hungry and so resentful of the fact that he looks as worn-out as she does. That's so not fair. She had an entire rant planned. Now she can't even give it because that would make her a total dick. Then again, "Ah, so finally the good Doctor reveals himself. No more minions to bleed me dry or drain my bladder of pee or—"

"Oh boo hoo," Bones grumbles with that dark whiskey voice of his. He grips her jaw gently before he aims his regenerator at her purpled eye.

This close, Jim can see the gold flecks in his hazel eyes. She feels herself blush and it sucks. "I told you that I wanted to keep my bruises," she mutters and tries to squirm away. "It's my trademark."

Bones is not having any of that and he cups his hand behind her neck as he works on healing her cheek. "Trust me, Kid," he says and he studies her blue eyes for a solid minute before he ducks his gaze down again. "That's not what's memorable about you."

Jim's receding blush darkens again. She fidgets. "I've been in this room for years, Bones. _Years_," she whines because acting like a brat is the safest thing to do and it'll keep her from doing something very stupid.

Bones scoffs and steps back when he's done. "Sorry we weren't as accommodatin' as, say, the Hilton."

Jim crosses her arms and turns her nose up at him. "I deserve as much. It's been like _nine _hours, Bones. This is _literally_ adding up as work hours."

Bones snorts as he peruses through her virtual files.

"Seriously," Jim contends as she watches him sit on the stool in front of her. "I should be paid for this. I am literally a certified nurse or doctor by now. No exaggerations."

"You? Exaggerate?" Bones counters with a sarcastically confused expression. "Is that even possible, Kid?"

Jim fights down a grin, but it's pretty hard when Bones looks so pleased with himself at his own little stupid joke. She says, "I am most displeased with you, Dr. Bones."

"Yeah, well, stand in line," Bones merely mutters as his brow furrows while he swipes two fingers along the transparent screen of her file. "You've got more allergies than feasible for a human to have."

"Thank you."

"Not a compliment."

Jim just shrugs.

"You're unreasonably underweight for your age and height," Bones goes on to say with an unhappy frown. "And from what I can tell, if these results are correct, you're gonna need your appendix removed come early July."

Jim makes a face. "Really? Is there any way around that?"

"Not unless someone comes up with a non-surgical cure for appendicitis. But as is, we can only detect the oncomin' initial warning signs. And from what I see," Bones says as he studies her files. "That's a certainty in your future."

"Just take it out now then."

Bones gives her an incredulous look. "Oh sure, Kid. Let me just grab my handy dandy scalpel and scoop the damn thing out now because in no way will that back fire and send your health spiralin' into the abyss of no return," he gripes.

Jim keeps a straight face. "Well I've got nowhere better to be. No time like the present," she says.

Bones stares at her for a long time before Jim rolls her eyes. "You do realize that you're allergic to six different kinds of anesthetics?"

Jim shrugs.

Bones sighs. "This is somethin' I have to seriously prepare for, among other things. Your biology requires a bit more caution and effort than most, Kid. I'd rather be safe than sorry. There are things I gotta order and arrangements to be made. Speakin' of—we need to talk about your dietary habits. Your iron leaves a lot to be desired, not to mention a gang of other things."

Jim groans dramatically. "Oh my God, I might as well live here. I will never know freedom. This is my prison now. I am a prisoner."

"Don't be so dramatic."

Jim narrows her blue eyes.

"The sooner you pay attention to what I'm sayin' and do as I _advise_—you won't have to worry about any of this nor my naggin'."

"…go on."

Bones snorts before he continues.

After all, listening to what he has to say turns out to be not so much of a hardship.

Jim could certainly do worst.

888

Since Bones couldn't quite skip out of the clinic to drop Jim off wherever she pleased—no matter how much she nagged and fussed at him until he was forced to fuss right back at her until they both just ended up making a scene in the waiting room area with all their heavily gestured bickering—Asiyah stepped in and offered since her shift was nearly done in a matter of minutes.

Bones had looked relieved and grateful, if not partially guilty.

And Jim had glared spitefully at him for it before she gave him a friendly punch in the arm while she tossed Asiyah a smile that was all teeth and charm.

Jim remembers, as they ride into town together, that she had made a sort of promise to Knight about stopping by and helping him with their digital database.

Asiyah has no problem pulling up to the massive building resting in the heart of the town.

The Hudson Hill Library is, without a doubt, the largest library that Jim's ever seen.

Asiyah parks her car in the parking lot, and together they enter the building.

Jim is struck by a sudden wave of nostalgia. Maybe it's the lighting or the books or the Easter decorations—she isn't sure but there is something about it all that makes her smile.

"I have some books to return, but I'll be around," Asiyah assures before they part ways.

Jim locates Knight's father easily enough. He's on the fifth floor in the oceanography section with a few of his employees as they attempt to sort through a new shipment of books.

Mr. Knight is a short man with almond colored skin, grey hair and speaks mainly in Mandarin. But as far as Jim can tell, he does speak English, but mainly in broken metaphors, which is only very amusing.

Lucky for Jim, she speaks a fair amount of Standard Mandarin. She says, "_Sir, can I trouble you?_"

Mr. Knight looks at her in apprehensive surprise. He replies, "_Who are you that you speak so fluently in my tongue?_"

"James Kirk," Jim replies and offers a hand. In Mandarin, she continues, "_Your son knows me. We are new friends._"

Mr. Knight eyes her calculatingly as he shakes her hand. "_If he mentioned you, then your name has slipped my mind. Please forgive that. Are you searching for him_?" he asks.

Jim ignores the way his employees eye them curiously. "_I came to offer help. Your son mentioned that—_"

"_Fùqīn._" Tomoharu appears and he sends Jim a sheepish and apologetic smile. "She's here to help us with the virtual directory," he explains.

Mr. Knight frowns and rolls up the catalogue in his hand and uses it to whack his son in the elbow. In Mandarin, he says, "_Why is it you refuse to use the language I taught you? This young woman is kind and polite to address me so. Why have the gods burdened me with a son who cannot do more than to call me 'Father' in my native tongue?_"

Tomoharu flushes. "_Fùqīn_, please," he urges.

"Ah. There you go again," Mr. Knight fusses in English. "What kind of peace do I have when my son reject my ways. Your mother say, 'We name him after my great grandfather. Japanese soldier. Brave man.' And what I say? I say okay and so we do this. Then I teach you how to speak in native tongue. You don't use. Your mother teach you her native tongue. You don't use. You rather stomp around, talk like cowboy John Wayne, forget where you come from, spit on me and mother."

Tomoharu looks heavily distressed. "Of course I'm grateful," he argues. "I just don't think it's polite to do it in certain company when not everyone can understand."

Mr. Knight scoffs. "What I care what anyone think, hm? I own largest library in Savannah. That all people need to think about it."

"_Fùqīn_…"

"Fine. You want me to speak cowboy English then I will," Mr. Knight continues. "Where the language go when no one use it? It die. You want it die?"

"Of course I don't want it to—"

"This will happen. You let it happen," Mr. Knight fusses, pointing an accusatory finger as he glares up at his tall son. "Your mother and I come here for you. We thought you can have things better than what we did. So ungrateful. Maybe I should send you back there. Make _you _assimilate. How you like that?"

"_Fùqīn_, please, I—"

"No, no," Mr. Knight shakes his head. "I'm done with this. You will learn one day, foolish boy." He takes a moment to look at Jim. "You do good by finding this girl. She smart. Very respectful. Significant traits to have. You bring her around often. What should I care you marry her? She speak like kin anyway, main thing that important." He nods to Jim and glares at his son before he disappears between some bookshelves.

Tomoharu is rubbing the back of his neck and looking uncertain.

"Your dad's very interesting," Jim offers, only because she feels a bit bad.

Tomoharu laughs like it's been startled out of him before he aims a sunny smile to Jim. "Yes he is. I'm sorry we did that in front of you. Just another endless debate we've gotta sort out before he leaves this life and joins our ancestors. Or so he likes to remind me," he supposes. He turns and gestures for Jim to follow. "Our main computer is in the basement. Let me show you what we've managed so far…"

Not a lot, apparently. Only basic threads of code as far as Jim can tell. It takes her no time to push past the meager firewalls and introduce a new cryptograph into the software. From there, things are pretty easy.

And by easy she means it takes about three hours to reroute the main encryptions and add originating keywords that will trigger the consolidating cybernetic bots to assist with filling out the multi-faceted dimensions of the databank.

Tomoharu keeps her company as much as he can but he's as busy as she is, what with being second manager to his father and all. Which is, to be honest, pretty impressive because he doesn't seem that much older than Jim. He's probably like nineteen or something.

_If that's the truth than he's like the billionth person I've met in this town that's like close to my age and in a position of authority, _Jim muses. _What an ambitious town._

Don't get Jim wrong, she loves it. She could learn a lot while she's here—at least enough to take with her to Florida. If she uses their techniques, she'll have a bar of her own in a matter of no time.

Jim finishes her work in the basement and goes up to the employee lounge to find Tomoharu. She says, "You're all good to go."

"Yeah?" Tomoharu graces her with a gorgeous smile. "Thank you so much, Ms. Kirk. I can't express that enough."

Jim waves him off. "Well, while you have me around—was there anything else you needed done?"

Tomoharu considers it. "There is a few," he admits reluctantly. He finishes the last bite of his salad before he stands.

"By all means, then," Jim encourages, giving a gorgeous smile of her own. "Lead the way."

Tomoharu does, but this time he sticks around to watch her work, asking questions here or there. He says, "It's amazin' what you can do, Ms. Kirk. You sure you won't consider bein' an engineer or somethin' of the same?"

Jim snorts as she messes with the wiring of the consoles for the flat screens in the kid's lounging area. "I'm sure I'd be good at it. But it's not what I want, you know?" she says.

"What do you want, if you pardon my askin'?" Tomoharu says.

Jim pauses at that, but only briefly, before she goes back to clipping a few wires together and putting them back in their place. "I want to just not have to worry about anything and be happy that I can," she replies.

Tomoharu makes a thoughtful sound. He perks up when the screens come to life. "Whatever it is or wherever you find yourself, Ms. Kirk, I'm sure you'll be excellent at it," he compliments. "You're a Godsend as far as I'm concerned."

Jim laughs a little before she stands and dusts off her hands. "Happy to be of service. I like to keep busy." She takes a moment to look around as an array of curious kids begin to filter into the lounge. "I think that's the last of it, until you need me again."

"I'm sure that'll be the case sometime soon," Tomoharu decides with a shy grin and leads her out to the main floor of the library. "I can't pay you until our next billin' cycle, which'll be at the end of this month, perhaps around Easter. But," he takes a moment to think. "I could offer to waive the library card fee."

"I thought library cards were naturally free?" Jim says, narrowing her eyes at him as he rounds the circulation desk and sits behind a monitor.

Tomoharu smiles. "Just a bad joke, Ms. Kirk. Don't mind me, please," he murmurs as he types a few things onto his keyboard. "In any case, you could still do with a library card, I imagine."

"Sure. Why not?" Jim supposes as she leans on the counter and watches him work.

A few seconds later, after he takes her picture, Tomoharu hands over a plastic, green and white, library card. "Now it's official," he claims happily.

Jim tucks the card away in her back pocket. "What is?"

"Everyone knows you ain't a true citizen of Hudson Hill until you've gotten yourself a library card," Tomoharu explains with a straight face.

Jim gives him a skeptical look. "If you say so," she merely drawls before she straightens. "Well I better get going. I'm sure I'll see you around, _Tomoharu_."

"Have a good night, Ms. Kirk," Tomoharu replies with a small grin. He obviously knows what she's trying to hint at by using his name but he's still sticking to his cards.

"Can't really blame me for trying," Jim points out as she winks before she swaggers out of the library and into the warm night air. She's not really sure what time it is, but judging by the darkening sky, it's well into dinnertime or something of the same. She smiles to herself as she tucks her hands in her back pockets and begins to stroll down the road in the direction of the McCoy manor.

The fingers of Jim's right hand graze the smooth edges of her newly obtained library card and she kicks up the dirt with her boots as she sticks to the side of the road. The walk is pleasant and quiet and she enjoys every minute of it. She strolls down the private road leading to Eleanora's elegant home and she jogs up the front porch steps. She's happy to find that the door has been left unlocked for her once again and she makes her way to the kitchen where she finds a small note.

_Jamie,_

_Lord knows when that boy of mine will get home but I suspect it won't be at a decent hour. He likes to work himself into the ground and I blame his father for that. With that being said, I made a roast for you two, so don't be greedy and eat it all. Save some for that fool boy of mine. I'll be spending the evening out. Don't wait up and certainly don't tell my son that I've gone off into the night with one of my many suitors. He worries enough as is. In return for your silence, I baked you another pie and bought a carton of vanilla ice cream. I'm certain it won't cause you any unpleasant reactions because I took every precaution needed this time around. Have a restful night._

_E. M._

Jim smiles and crumbles the note up before she tosses it in the garbage. She goes to the oven and finds an iron pot, still warm and waiting for her. She makes a plate for herself before she puts the rest in the oven for Bones. She figures he'll know where to look if this is something that Eleanora has does often enough before. After she clears her plate, she helps herself to two large slices of pie and an even greater serving of ice cream. She washes her plate when she's done and carries herself up to her room. She changes into some pajamas and picks out a different book to read.

Jim falls asleep halfway through the epilogue and only stirs briefly when she hears footsteps retreat into the room across from hers. She rolls over and turns off her light before going back to sleep, vaguely noticing that's it's almost three in the morning.

The next morning, which happens to be Sunday, Eleanora skips all pretenses and barges into Jim's room and drags her out of bed for church.

"Church?" Jim groans, not bothering to get up from where she's on the floor in a twisted heap with her covers. One blue eye is level with one of Eleanora's foot. "I can't go?"

"And just why not?"

"I don't have any, like, you know, Christianly clothes."

"Jesus said come as you are, I'm sure that still applies here."

"Your not serious."

"Oh I'm as serious as an overdue student loan," Eleanora replies. "Now get up and get ready. You will not be the reason I miss praise and worship. You could use a bit of the good Lord, Jamie."

"You're making Bones go too right? I'm not going if he doesn't."

Eleanora just chuckles balefully and leaves.

Jim shivers in fear and goes with the smarter option, which is to not press her luck on this one. She detangles herself from her covers and stumbles over to the closet. She throws together an outfit she hopes will come off as modest enough but honestly its not like she would know since she doesn't fucking go to church on Sunday. She grumbles to herself as she puts on some ripped acid washed jeans with a sheer apricot blouse and throws her leather jacket over it. She puts on her black ankle boots before slicking her hair back into a mid-ponytail. She then clicks her way down the steps and goes in the kitchen, where she finds Bones waiting in some light grey slacks with a white button down and a lavender tie.

Jim smiles and feels oddly triumphant that Eleanora is making Bones go too—unless he already wanted to go. That makes her smile slip into an unhappy frown.

Bones notices her switching expressions with a cocked eyebrow. "Mornin', Kid," he says and eyes her. "That's what you're wearin'?"

Jim crosses her arms defensively. "I'm a rockstar for Jesus," she argues.

Bones snorts and looks like he doesn't buy it for a second. He walks to the fridge and pulls free two bananas and two protein shakes. He gives her the vanilla one along with a banana.

Jim grudgingly takes the banana, but to the shake she says, "I prefer chocolate."

Bones just quirks his eyebrow again and pops open the lid to his shake and, holding her gaze, takes a generous sip of the chocolate one. He smacks his lips with the obnoxious content sigh and Jim is tempted to just take the vanilla can and chuck it at his head.

"I'm not drinking that. I don't even like vanilla," Jim says petulantly.

"There's a half-empty carton of ice cream in the freezer that begs to differ," Bones coolly replies.

"You're annoying," Jim snaps and snatches the vanilla shake from his steady fingers. "Don't look or talk to me at all today. I am going to throw up a billion Hail Mary's until God smites you with lightening."

Bones's lips curl amusedly. "I don't think you quite get the logistics of how this whole Christianity thing works."

"You better hope I never figure it out either," Jim warns before she stomps off and stands on the front porch. She angrily peels her banana and chews it angrily and drinks her protein shake angrily and she is just very angry. Okay. Maybe not angry but annoyed and a little sexually frustrated but she'd rather die than admit to that.

Stupid sexy married bastard.

Jim so does not jump when the screen door snaps back in the doorway.

Eleanora eyes her curiously. "You okay, Jamie?"

"Fine," Jim mutters and swipes the back of her hand over her wet mouth. "I think you're right about me needing the Lord. We're leaving now?"

"Yes ma'am," Eleanora says and gracefully fans herself with a blue fan, which matches perfectly with the powder blue Sunday dress and large sun hat she's wearing. "Leonard's been kind enough to offer to drive."

Bones exits the house, closing the front door behind him before he walks down the steps and to his car.

Eleanora follows at her own pace and Jim focuses on eating the rest of her banana as they all climb into Bones's car.

The drive to church is a relatively short one. They pull up to a large white chapel that sits all by itself out in the middle of what seems to be nowhere.

Jim climbs out the car and throws her trash in a nearby garbage can as she wonders at the sound of an organ and soulful voices that float from the church. She sticks close to Eleanora as they cross the threshold and walk across the small lobby to the second set of double doors. The blare of the music hits Jim with a sort of intensity she only knows through going to concerts.

Everyone is dressed properly in suits and dresses and really the only people dressed as casually as Jim are either teenagers, pre-teens or new converts.

Eleanora hauls Jim to the third pulpit on the left side of the main aisle. She scoots down by a friend she must know and this places Jim to Bones's immediate left.

It's a bit distracting.

Jim stands and watches everyone jump up and down and shout and sing and dance before the sight of it all is enough to make her start to sweat. She frowns agitatedly and shrugs off her leather jacket, but it only does so much for her. All that energy and body heat is cloying at her in the most uncomely ways.

Bones glances at her as he rolls up his sleeves to his elbow, and he must notice her discomfort because he flags an usher and procures two green fans. He gives her one and works in tandem with her to fan her off.

Jim smiles a little and, against the loud music and the choir, says, "Taking pity on me, huh?"

"Can't have you faintin'," Bones merely says with a minor shrug. He turns his hazel eyes to the front again as he continues to fan her steadily.

Jim grins to herself and continues to watch people jump up and down and clap their hands. She tries to spot a few familiar faces but the activity of the room makes that impossible. Eventually praise and worship ends and everyone sits down.

Bones stretches his left arm behind her as he uses his right hand to fan her while he pays attention to the sermon being given.

Jim doesn't think he realizes that his arm is spread out behind her but she also doesn't mind it so much. It's—nice. She hardly pays attention to a word the preacher says, and its not because she wants to lean back and put Bones's arm on her shoulders—it's because she isn't really into what he's saying. Something about David and Bathsheba and a soldier sent to the front lines and some affair—yeah, she doesn't get the moral of the story.

The message ends with a quick prayer and the offer of helping anyone who wanted to turn their lives over to Jesus and so on.

Jim is quietly glad that it's over. She feels exhausted somehow, and thirsty, and hot. So while Eleanora and Bones are busy chatting with their peers, she slips out into the lobby and finds a corner to just be all introvert in. It works for all but thirteen minutes before Dixie and Zonta spot her.

Dixie is wearing a turquoise ruffle tunic that falls to her knees while her hair is pinned up.

Zonta is wearing a formfitting black and beige bandage dress while her raven hair is flowing in messy curls around her face. She's got a silver nose ring, her eyes are lined in kohl and her lips are painted with red. She looks like pure sex and she doesn't even seem the least bit concerned about it, even when the other members of the church shoot her disapproving looks.

"Hey there, stranger," Dixie says with a smile. "Momma McCoy dragged you to church, huh? Probably should've warned you about that."

"Probably," Jim agrees with a grin.

"I like a little church in my life," Zonta says, and her voice sounds huskier for some reason. "Helps me absolve all that little sinnin' fun I did last week."

"Oh hush, Zuhi," Dixie says, waggling a stern finger with a mock somber expression. "We ain't got time for that kind of talk in the house of the Lord."

Zuhi snorts and puts her hands on her hips. "Jesus knows all about what I done, Dixie." She gives Jim a once over. "Like they say. Ain't nothin' new under the sun—or the universe for His case."

"I'm sorry," Jim says. "I don't think we met. My name is Jim Kirk."

"I know who you are," Zuhi remarks as she crosses her arms. "My sister told me all about your visit to our shop. Heard you gave Ms. Jocelyn a good talkin' back to. Shame I couldn't be there to see. Would've loved to hitch my wagon to that conversation."

Jim grins. "I was confused a few seconds ago because I thought you were Zonta. But apparently Zonta has a double."

"I prefer to think of myself as a better copy," Zuhi adds with a sly smirk. "I'd be more than happy to show you just how good, Ms. Kirk."

Jim flushes a little even as Dixie swats at Zuhi's shoulder.

"Do you have any shame?" Dixie hisses.

Zuhi shrugs. "I think Zonta took it all when we was in our momma's womb. Don't care really. She can keep it." She goes back to studying Jim. "You single right?"

"_Anyway_," Dixie interrupts before Jim can answer. "Don't do it, Jim. Don't let her pull you into her mischief."

"I don't know," Jim says with an innocent shrug, ducking her head so she can look up at them both from under her lashes. "I like a bit of mischief."

Zuhi's smirk widens into a smile. "Oh, darlin'. You and I are gonna get on just fine."

Jim laughs and obliges Zuhi's nonverbal request for a high-five.

"God help us," Dixie mutters with a headshake. "All that aside, how have you been settlin', Jim?"

"Fine," Jim says with a shrug.

"So you did cross paths with my sister?" Dixie inquires.

"Uh, yeah. We happened to exchange some words."

Zuhi looks pleasantly amused.

Dixie snorts and crosses her arms. "You ain't gotta be all prim and proper with me. I know what a hailstorm that woman can be."

"She definitely got a bit of storm in her," Zuhi agrees.

Dixie chuckles and gently pushes at Zuhi's shoulder. "So, today's my husband's birthday. I know Eleanora's comin'. You gonna swing in with her or did you make plans?"

"No, I'll come," Jim promises.

"Mm, that I'd like to see," Zuhi interjects and Dixie is the one to blush this time.

"We are in _church_," Dixie warns.

Zuhi looks like she could care less.

Jim says, "What I really look forward to is the look on people's faces when you share your _good _news."

Zuhi frowns and narrows her eyes. "What good news?"

Dixie smiles slyly before she presses a finger to her lips. She winks before she drifts away into the gathering crowds.

Zuhi huffs indignantly. "Guess I'll have to wait with everyone else to find out." She gives Jim a small grin. "Look forward to seein' _you_ there, Ms. Kirk." She waves her fingers before she ducks away too.

Jim is left alone, and since the lobby is getting pretty congested, she decides to step outside and brave that hot Georgian sun. She ends up leaning against Bones's car and fanning herself with the green fan from the church. She's counting the clouds in the sky when she feels a gentle tap to her elbow. When she looks down, she's met with wide green eyes, curly brown hair in pigtails tied off with white ribbons, a button nose and full pink lips set in a scowl that's all too familiar.

"D'ya know how to tie shoes?" she asks with an adorable squeaky voice. She looks severely determined, even though her shoes are a mess of knotted string. She's wearing lavender overall shorts with a white t-shirt underneath.

"I wouldn't call myself an expert but I think I've managed to figure it all out," Jim says as she lowers to her knees and begins to undo all the knots. "What's your name? My name is Jim."

"My name is Joanna."

"Just Joanna?"

"Just Jim?" Joanna counters cleverly.

Jim laughs and sends her a fond look. "James Tiberius Kirk if you must know, Little Missy."

"Joanna Honey McCoy if _you_ oughta, Big Missy," Joanna echoes and she is just too adorable for words.

"How old are you?"

"Three and a half—but my granddaddy say that my short size make me look younger. Says it'll break his heart if I turn out to be some kinda dwarf," Joanna remarks with thoughtful frown. "What's a dwarf, Ms. Kirk?"

"Nothing I think you'll ever be," Jim assures as she ties Joanna's right shoe before tying her left. "There. You're all set."

"But ya didn't show me nothin'!" Joanna exclaims with a dissatisfied scowl that eerily echoes her father. She sure had his features down to a science, even with her mother's bright green eyes.

Jim smiles. "You want to learn?"

"Why else would I ask, Ms. Kirk?" Joanna retorts with a genuine frown of confusion. She hunches down and undoes her shoestrings. "Please do it again so I can see what ya did."

Jim goes through it step by step and stands back when Joanna urges her to do so.

Joanna gets it on her third try and she's so thrilled that she hugs Jim's neck very tightly.

Jim coughs and pats Joanna on her back as she chokes, "Glad I could help."

Joanna pulls away and asks, "You the lady stayin' with my daddy and my maw-maw, ain't you?"

"Well, yes," Jim confirms, a little caught off guard.

Joanna nods vigorously, like she approves. "That's good. I'm glad ya'll got each other cause I don't want none of ya bein' lonely. Daddy and momma fightin' right now and momma won't let me go with him and I know that make him sad. I don't want him sad, Ms. Kirk."

Jim's fingers curl around her fan. "That's—well. I don't want that either," she admits. "Your dad's a nice guy."

"I don't think you know what nice is, Ms. Kirk," Joanna says with a skeptical frown. "Daddy's good to me and momma, sure. But everyone else is like different." She squints at Jim. "He must really like you if he's bein' nice."

"No," Jim denies quickly, not wanting to give this little girl the wrong impression. "He's not nice to me at all. In fact, he's a real pest. He's always making me do things I don't want to just because he thinks he knows what's good for me."

Joanna smiles real wide, and she's missing a few teeth. "Oh, well I know about that! He does that with me too, but that's cause he a doctor and he really care about me. He must care about you."

Jim's expression staggers into nothing. "Um. Well. I don't think—"

"Joanna Honey McCoy!" a sultry voice snaps.

Both Jim and Joanna twist their heads and blink at the fuming expression on Jocelyn's face as she stands lividly in the threshold of the chapel entrance door.

"Uh oh," Joanna whispers. "Momma don't like when I wander off."

"Yeah, I'm getting that," Jim whispers back and stands just as Jocelyn strides over to them with a purpose. "Lovely day, wouldn't you say, Jocelyn?"

Jocelyn's dark purple lips twist in a sneer. "Ms. Kirk. Why am I not even remotely surprised to find you out here with my wayward daughter? Did it not occur to you that you should've sought me out in case she wasn't where she was supposed to be? But seeing as how she's three, that's pretty much a given," she hisses.

Jim mentally counts to five before she calmly replies, "Joanna asked me to help her tie her shoes, so I obliged."

"I learned to tie mah shoes, mama," Joanna exclaims with a new wave of excitement. She curls her small hands around Jocelyn's.

Jocelyn's glare softens as she turns to her daughter. "Did you now? That's lovely, darling. I'm proud of you, but you really should have asked me if you wanted to learn."

"Didn't wanna bother you," Joanna says as she ducks her gaze and kicks at the ground. "You're always—" She cuts herself off with a scowl.

Jocelyn frowns. "What? I'm what, sweetie?"

Joanna shakes her head.

"You might as well say what's on your mind now that you've begun," Jocelyn calmly urges.

Joanna kicks at the grass again before she says, "Busy, mama. You and daddy are always too busy for me."

Jocelyn looks a little hurt but she quickly masks it as she turns her green eyes on Jim. "Thank you, Ms. Kirk, for keeping her company, as I was preoccupied," she grits out. "In the future, please locate me if you should happen to cross paths with my daughter again. I do worry."

Jim nods wordlessly.

Jocelyn gives her a once over before she clicks away in her heels with Joanna in tow.

Jim exhales heavily and starts to fan herself again. She's not sure how long she stands outside the church before Eleanora and Bones come striding over with identical frowns. If Jim had to hazard a guess, she'd say that they must have ran into Jocelyn sometime or another.

They all climb in the car wordlessly and the drive back to the house is filled with a loaded silence.

After they pull up, Eleanora tucks away in the kitchen, Bones go to his room, and Jim goes to hers.

She takes a cold shower to cool down before she puts on a pair of cutoff shorts with a black and white stripped crop top. She flops face down on her bed and falls asleep.

Eleanora urges her awake sometime later and asks her if she's coming with her to Dixie's husband's birthday party.

Jim stretches and yawns before she nods and looks for her shoes. After she slips them on, she meets Eleanora, who has changed into some casual clothes, by the door and together they climb into her pick-up truck.

The birthday party is being held in the backyard of Mayor Treadway's massive manor. It really is a lavish place—it's a place carved with white stone and has dozens of windows. She can easily tell that the Treadways must come from old money.

The backyard of the Treadway Manor goes on for what looks like acres. For now, a fraction of it is decorated with multi-colored hanging lanterns, an elongated buffet table, a smaller table with neatly stacked presents, flowers and balloons, a dance floor with a live band, and a big strawberry birthday cake sitting by itself on a small table on the other side of the gifts.

Jim does her best to mingle with the natives. It helps that she runs into Asiyah and Tomoharu during the flair of it all. Asiyah is wearing a white floral dress that falls to her knees with sunflowers print and a white hijab. Tomoharu is wearing jeans and a fitting royal blue shirt that matches the hat on his head. The three of them band together and enjoy each other's company.

While Jim sits on the stone steps of the Treadway Manor with Asiyah and Tomoharu, nipping from each other's plates, Zuhi and Zonta stride over and join them.

Zuhi is wearing a skintight leather dress with blood red stilettos. She has a plunging neck line, which shows off her ample cleavage as well as the black lace bra she's wearing. Her long raven hair has been pressed straight and falls to her curvy hips.

Zonta, on the other hand, is wearing a peach-colored romper with white gladiator sandals. Her raven hair looks freshly cut and falls just above her slender shoulders in loose curls.

"Guess it's true what they say," Zuhi comments. "Birds of a feather do flock and fly." She eyes each of them. "Ya'll know ya'll look like complete wallflowers right?"

"Am I pretty wallflower?" Asiyah retorts as she chews on a chicken wing.

"Are you kiddin'? You're full on gorgeous," Zuhi exclaims as she sits down beside her.

Zonta rolls her eyes. "Can we go five minutes without you flirtin'? Hell, I'd even take a solid three," she complains.

"Don't hate on me cause my game too strong," Zuhi retorts and makes obnoxious gang signs with her hands.

Jim chuckles as she pops a small tomato in her mouth. "Tomoharu and Asiyah were just naming names for me," she says.

"Oh yeah, and what'd they dish with it?" Zuhi asks. "They give you the dirty details?"

"Please don't gossip," Zonta begs.

Zuhi springs to her feet and stands before them all in a proud pose. "Too late. I love this game too much to let the opportunity pass on through." She squints an eye and aims her finger like a gun at Jim. "Now you listen well, darlin'. I'm about to tell you all about these here citizens of Hudson Hill. Well, at least the ones that matter." She then aims her finger at a dark skinned male with a buzz cut. "That's Tony Jones. His dad is Jeremy Jones and he owns several car lots, including the lot you can find across from the library in Town Square. Now Tony is connected to Luis. Luis is the Dominican beauty who is unfortunately engaged to Tony."

"I know Luis. He's helping me repair my bike," Jim comments as she watches Tony bring a plate over to Luis before kissing him.

"Luis is the best mechanic we got," Zonta remarks.

Zuhi continues as she points to the head of the buffet where there's a grey haired older man with a handlebar mustache. "That's Reverend Nolan Dwight. He's the preacher that was givin' the sermon this mornin'. And that lovely woman beside him is his wife, Janelle. Note the fact that she is twenty years his senior. That's because our dear Reverend was happily married before Janelle took up the role of choir director in her momma's stead. Everybody knows they were havin' some kind of affair and it broke poor Martha's heart."

"Martha?"

"Reverend Nolan's deceased wife. I say deceased because when she found out about their trysts, she had a heart attack. About three weeks after, that's when our lovely Reverend and his Choir Director got married. That was a scandal, let me tell you," Zuhi says with an amused grin. "Now, who else do we have—oh! Out on the dance floor you'll find an array of McCoys. There's Robert McCoy—he works at the clinic with Leonard and he's married with like five kids. Then there's Robert's sister, Judie McCoy-Foster. She's married to Tucker Foster—he owns the Foster Bakery you can find right beside our little shop. They have two kids. Then there's Kevin McCoy—he's the sheriff of Bayview Police Department. And there's Donnie McCoy and Jackson McCoy and Serena McCoy and Howard McCoy. Lot of McCoys. You stayin' with Eleanora so I'm sure you'll meet them all properly."

Jim tries to follow Zuhi's indication and pretty soon she doesn't even have to because a McCoy could be easily spotted by their brown hair, hazel eyes and pouty lips. Quite a good-looking lot really.

"Lot of good genes in that family," Zonta says, absentmindedly and blushes when everyone looks at her. "Well I'm just sayin' what we all thinkin'!"

Zuhi snorts. "Sure, Zonnie. Whatever helps you deny that burning crush you still have on Len—"

Zonta makes a grab for her sister. "You shut your dirty troublesome mouth!"

Zuhi just ducks out of the way as she continues, "You see that slender woman that looks all prim and proper in her Kennedy lookin' dress with that stiff hairstyle beside the Latin woman with the camera? Well that woman is Mrs. Betty Treadway, wife to Mayor Treadway and a known alcoholic and cougar."

"Zuhi," Tomoharu murmurs with an admonishing tone.

"What? It's true. She'll fuck any guy under the age of twenty-five," Zuhi insists. "Look at her, chattin' up Rosemary." She shakes her head. "Rosemary Suarez is the Editor of the Hudson Hill paper by the way. She might want to interview you because you're a fresh face."

Jim looks appalled and everyone laughs.

"That was a joke," Asiyah assures, patting Jim's wrist gently.

Jim frowns. "Please don't joke like that."

Zuhi winks unrepentantly at her.

Dixie strolls up to them with her husband. He's a very handsome man, rather on the large and portly side, with short spiky hair and a goatee—he looks Hawaiian or maybe it just seems that way because of the shirt he's wearing.

"Evenin' company! I'm so glad ya'll was able to come out tonight," Dixie exclaims. She directs her gaze to Jim. "This is my husband Clay. Clay, this is Jim."

Clay offers a large hand. "Happy to meet you, Jim. Welcome to Hudson Hill," he says with a friendly smile.

Jim shakes his hand and returns the smile. "Thank you and happy birthday."

Clay opens his mouth to reply but someone calls his name. "Ah, well I gotta get back to the people. It was nice meetin' you again. Next time you come round to the diner, meal's on me." He gives her a wink before he goes off into the crowds again.

Dixie stares after him with a fond smile. "God, have you ever seen a more sexy man? He's like my big teddy bear."

Asiyah snorts. "I'm sure you know better than us," she remarks.

"You've always had a thing for _big _guys," Zuhi drawls and waggles her eyebrows.

Dixie hums. "I refuse to read into that."

Zuhi laughs and Zonta shoves at her.

"Mayor Treadway's not here?" Tomoharu asks as he looks around. "I haven't seen him."

Dixie's expression flattens. "Couldn't be bothered to come," she mutters with a sigh. "Mother however," she indicates to the buffet table where the champagne is being served. "She's havin' a jolly old time."

Mrs. Treadway is downing a glass of champagne and reaching for another as she sways. She then hangs on a young man nearby and starts to feel him up.

"Holy heaven. I think might need to attend to my mother," Dixie mutters and strides to Mrs. Treadway with a purpose.

Zonta shakes her head as she watches Dixie attempt to dislodge her mother. "She's too good for this family."

"I fucking concur that," Zuhi chimes.

"Uh-oh," Asiyah says as she stands quickly. "Trouble's coming."

Jim frowns and looks to where Asiyah is looking, just as Tomoharu, Zuhi and Zonta curse. "What? What is it?"

"The portly Armenian woman drowning in makeup and jewelry and perfume headed our way? Yeah, that's Mrs. Gloria Albright," Zuhi says under her breath. "She and her husband own the recreational center and theater. I like her husband Ralph, but Gloria—that woman is a vindictive gossip, and I also suspect she partakes in witchcraft."

Gloria waddles over to them with a wolfish smile. "Hello my lovelies," she coos. Her brown eyes stop on Jim. "And you must be the charmin' angel I been hearin' so much about. Can I just say that I am pleased to know that Eleanora finally got someone to tackle that massive orchard of hers—even if she did have settle for a stranger. Oh, pardon to you of course." She feigns a look of remorse. "I know you'll treat her right. After all, she's at odds with her own son, and her husband passed away not but four or five years ago. She don't live like a widow, does she? Poor dear."

It's obvious to Jim that Gloria isn't really concerned and that she's only trying to pry information from her. "Eleanora is very capable in anything she sets out to do," she replies carefully. "But I'm sure I don't need to tell you that. Your a friend of hers, right? I can't remember if she mentioned you."

Zuhi, Zonta, Asiyah and Tomoharu stifle a chuckle at the pinched expression that crosses Gloria's face.

Gloria says, "Of course. Me and her go a long ways back. I'm talkin' more the diaper days then the sandbox. My, it has been years hasn't it?" She hums as she eyes Jim. "Such a lovely girl with such proportional features—that's a bit rare around here—well mainly ever since I came of age. Girls these days aren't the way they used to be," she says and aims a significant look to Zuhi.

Zuhi smirks. "How's Ralph, Ms. Gloria?"

Gloria's expression becomes pinched again. "Happily married," she drawls. "Not that that's ever stopped you I hear."

"You always hear things don't you? Probably would hear somethin' even if you were sunken to the deepest crevice of the Atlantic," Zuhi retorts curtly.

Gloria drapes her hand over her heart and does a dramatic look of astonishment. "Why, I have never! You are certainly an unpleasant little heathen. Clearly today's sermon went right over your head!"

"As I'm sure most concepts go right over yours," Zuhi cleverly deflects.

Gloria splutters. "And I thought your people was supposed to be—"

"Oh I beg you, finish that sentence," Zuhi growls as she takes a menacing step forward.

Gloria pales but quickly recovers. "Anyway," she mumbles as she looks back to Jim. "I'm doing a revised rendition to Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, and while I don't usually extend an invitation to audition to outsiders, I'm willin' to make an exception for you, Ms. Kirk." She gives Jim a once over. "Somethin' tells me that were I to cast you as the lead, well, our theater auditorium would be filled to the brim, now wouldn't it?"

"I'll consider it," Jim says.

"Be sure you do," Gloria says. "Auditions are two days after Easter at seven." She eyes the rest of the group. "You all have a nice night now, and feel free to come and audition as well." She waddles away and goes to bother some other unsuspecting soul.

"I hate that woman," Zuhi mutters.

"You hate everybody," Zonta points out.

"But especially her."

Jim scans the crowds and tries not to feel too disappointed when she doesn't see Bones.

"_Can I have everyone's attention, please!_" Dixie's voice blares through the speakers and she's standing by the DJ booth with a mic and a nervous smile. "_I just wanna thank everyone who came and for the love and support you showed my wonderful husband. And to Clay, sweetheart, lovebug, moon of my life—I have one special present that I want to present you with. Problem is that this beautiful delivery you help me make won't come for another six months_."

There's an uproar of cheers and claps.

Clay looks stunned at first but then overjoyed as he quickly makes his way to Dixie, picking her up and spinning her around.

Jim smiles and gives a little cheer while Zuhi jumps up and down with a shocked shout, practically tackling her sister onto the ground.

Eleanora come finds her when she's ready to go and Jim gives Asiyah, Zuhi, Zonta and Tomoharu a hug goodbye. Eleanora asks her if she enjoyed herself and Jim is being honest when she tells her that she did. The rest of the drive back to the house is spent in comfortable silence.

Jim follows Eleanora up the porch steps and into the house.

In the living room, Jocelyn is sitting with her legs crossed across from Bones. She looks livid and frustrated.

Bones, on the other hand, looks like he wishes he were anywhere else.

Jocelyn keeps her gaze on Bones as she addresses them, "Eleanora. Ms. Kirk. I trust my brother-in-law's party went well."

"You'd know if you had went," Eleanora remarks. "Where's Joanna?"

"Upstairs in your room watching TV. I figured you wouldn't mind," Jocelyn drawls as she goes on staring at Bones like she hopes to break him with sheer mind power.

Eleanora looks like she has a million things to say to that. In the end, she excuses herself and makes her way up the stairs and to her room.

Jim's left standing there.

Jocelyn turns her green eyes to her. "Ms. Kirk, come sit. I have a question I want to ask you," she says.

"She doesn't need to be involved," Bones opposes.

"Nonsense, Leonard," Jocelyn says as she laces her fingers over her lap. "A third opinion is just what we need." She looks to Jim again. "Come sit."

Jim wants to do the opposite of that. She can feel the tension between them start to cloy at her as she makes her way over. She flicks her gaze between them before she settles down in the armchair adjacent to the two couches. She looks at Jocelyn expectantly.

"Now, you're a young girl," Jocelyn drawls. "What was your schooling like growing up?"

"Uh," Jim hesitates. "Interesting to say the least. I went to a public school."

Jocelyn crosses her arms. "I want to send Joanna to a boarding school. Not just any. It's one all the men and women in my family went to. I'm sure you've noticed that I don't quite share in the local accent."

Jim had noticed.

"Leonard doesn't think it's a good idea," Jocelyn goes on to say. "Not surprising. He's got a soft spot for our little Jo-Bear."

Bones doesn't quite glare at Jocelyn, but it's a near thing.

"What do you think? I'm offering the highest brand of education to my child—surely you can agree that public schools leave a lot to be desired," Jocelyn continues. "You dropped out didn't you?"

Jim schools her features very carefully. "Excuse me?"

"You're seventeen, out on your own—it's not hard to put two and two together," Jocelyn remarks with a dismissive tone. "I'd hate for Joanna to experience anything like that."

Jim feels an angry smile eating away at her lips, but she calmly explains, "Public schools suck, yes. Depends on the area and depends on the funding. Would I have been better off in a private school? Most likely."

Bones doesn't conceal the glare he turns on her.

Jim ignores it and continues, "But the difference between Ms. Joanna and I, is that I've always been a bit of an orphan. So it wouldn't matter for me if I went away or if I stayed. I didn't have anyone who would care or miss me. Joanna does, and I think her childhood and education would be a lot more rewarding if she stayed. I'm sure if either of you feel like she's not being challenged enough, well, there's always homeschooling or private tutors. But most importantly, you should be mindful of what Joanna wants." She gives a minor shrug before she stands.

Jocelyn has a dissatisfied frown on her face.

Bones has a more indecipherable look.

"Well I hope you guys can work something out," Jim says and makes her way to the stairs. She pauses before she climbs them and adds, "Oh, and by the way. I'm not a dropout. I graduated high school when I was fifteen. Everything else is just me figuring out what I want to do with myself." She gives another shrug before she joins Eleanora and Joanna in Eleanora's room.

"Hey, Jim," Joanna greets and scoots over from where she's sitting on the floor at the front of Eleanora's bed. "Come sit by me. We're watchin' the looney _cah_toons."

"_Car_toons, Jo-Bear," Eleanora gently corrects. She's sitting against her headboard with a cookbook in her lap.

Jim sits down beside Joanna and watches TV with her until Jocelyn comes to collect her and they leave. Jim spreads out on Eleanora's floor and continues to watch TV until she falls asleep.

She wakes up sometime later with a pillow under her head and a soft blanket thrown over her. The room is dark and she can hear Eleanora snoring. As quietly as she can manage, she creeps out of the room and shuts the door behind her.

Jim tiptoes to her room and tucks away inside. She doesn't bother changing when she flops backwards on the bed and closes her eyes.

888

If Jim thought that living in close quarters with Bones meant that she'd see him every minute of every day, then she was wrong.

_Stupidly _wrong.

For all of the next two weeks, she doesn't hear or see Bones for even a second. He's mostly mentioned by name in her conversations with Eleanora, and sometimes she thinks she can hear him stumbling into his room late in the night but she's too tired to be sure. He's always gone by the time she gets up in the morning so sometimes she thinks she might have made the sounds up in her head.

Jim already has a pretty good idea of what a workaholic is.

Bones practically embodies it. He doesn't even come with them to church anymore.

She's not sure if something happened between Jocelyn and him that's driving him to this behavior or if he was already like that, but whatever the case is, it's not good.

Jim tries to remind herself that it's none of her business. She tries to focus on her own life and situation. After all, she's only in Hudson Hill until she can make enough money for her bike to be fixed.

Speaking of—that first paycheck she got from Eleanora was _a lot more _than what she expected. She's not complaining, by any means, but it opens up a door of possibilities for her.

Firstly, with this kind of money, she can arrange for all the more damaged parts of her bike to be replaced with something newer.

Secondly, she doesn't really have to book out once she does. She can stick around and make enough money to _buy _her own bar instead of applying for loans and whatnot. Sure, it's probably going to take two or three years before she can earn enough to get her own business going, but it should be worth it in the end.

And thirdly, that two or three years might be cut in half if she keeps offering her technological expertise to the good business owners of Hudson Hill. Turns out that Tomoharu and his father weren't the only ones having trouble making sense of all the modern technology and software.

Jim is only happy to assist anyone (for a reasonable fee).

So yeah, Jim might just become a temporary resident of Hudson Hill.

She just has to stop thinking about Bones.

But really—two weeks is ridiculously long for not seeing someone you _live _with.

Not that she doesn't have enough to keep her busy. She's made a lot of friends. More friends than she expected. So when she's not working, she's both drinking her weight in alcohol and hustling pool with Zuhi. Or she's grabbing lunch with Tomoharu. Or she's playing chess with Ohanzee in Zonta's shop while Zonta complains about the lack of help she gets from Zuhi.

And maybe even more recently, rehearsing for the summer opening of Romeo and Juliet with Asiyah. Now, to explain that situation, Jim never intended to be a part of the play. It was Asiyah who convinced her to do it. She said she didn't want to audition unless Jim did it with her. Jim is a super nice friend so of course she went along with it. Now she's glad she did because if she hadn't then Asiyah would've been stuck with some minor role.

Gloria Fucking Albright tried to assign Jim the part of Juliet, even though Jim had purposefully botched the audition. But Asiyah on the other hand, holy hell, could that woman act. It's was obvious to anyone who watched her audition. So Jim kicked up a fuss and threatened that she wouldn't be a part of the play. In fact, she'd boycott it and do a whole protest if Gloria didn't give the role of Juliet to Asiyah.

Gloria had tried to argue about Asiyah's hijab and use it for her reasoning. Jim was calling bullshit and soon everyone else that was there was as well. Gloria had looked like she swallowed a lemon until she consented, but only on the grounds that Jim plays Romeo. Jim wasn't all that interested but it was a small price to pay for Asiyah's happiness.

So for three nights a week, she's rehearsing and _not_ thinking about Bones.

Totally not.

For any reason.

At all.

…

…

Shit.

888

Eleanora hires a twenty-five year old with red hair that's cut in a punk-style mohawk, intelligent grey eyes, wicked tattoos and piercings, and is a transgender woman.

Her name is Florence, and she's totally hardcore.

She stays in the same apartment complex that Dixie and Clay do, and she walks everywhere in her black studded boots, not caring that everyone stares at her and her leather pants and see-through tank top. She's got delicate features like a princess, skin heavily freckled and pale like the moon but she swears like a sailor. She's got fair skin so with every sunburn she gets, she smokes a cigarette.

Florence smokes a lot of cigarettes.

She's a good worker though—picks as many apples as Jim does, but she also knows a thing or two about horses, so she takes care of those chores as well. Even though most days she shows up to work with a black-eye, or several questioning bruises, or a noticeable limp.

"I'm fucking burning to bits here," Florence complains, a week and a half after she's been hired. "Fucking sun," she goes on to complain before she gives said sun the middle finger. "Ey, fuck you sun. You yellow motherfucker."

Jim laughs because all she can do is laugh at Florence's antics.

They're on cleanup duty. Which means they have to each haul around a green recycle bin and chuck all the rotting apples littering the ground into them so they can be picked up by Jackson McCoy, who owns a non-for-profit mulch business.

Florence is limping again, and she's got a split lip with a bruised cheek this time. Every time she bends over to grab some apples off the ground, she winces—almost as though she's got some bruised or broken ribs.

Jim has to ask. "Florence?"

"Yes, Blue?"

Jim smiles at her nickname and tosses another rotting apple in her bin. "I don't mean to be nosy. And you know I wouldn't ask if it didn't concern me. But, well—you come to work pretty beat up and—"

Florence laughs sharply and it cuts through the air. "You worried about me, baby doll?"

Jim frowns and feels stupid for asking.

Florence must see it on Jim's face so she raises her hands to show she's harmless and snickers. "Sorry. I'm not trying to be a dick. If I were in your shoes, I'd ask too," she admits. She sighs as she tosses an apple in her bin. "Figured we would have this conversation sooner or later."

Jim grabs a few more bad apples as she waits for her to explain.

"So I got myself into some bad dealings back home, you know, things that you can't really run from," Florence says. "I'm different though. I was a knucklehead when I was a kid—didn't have any parents to knock me in the head to tell me right from wrong. Didn't know who I was or what I wanted to be—I was all mixed up inside. The streets was my home. So I got connected with some bad people, you know, drug types and criminals and mobsters. People like that. Eventually I was hitting lower than bottom and I had no way to settle all my debts. Then a friend of mine, Trixie, showed me this thing called underground street fighting. I mean you would not believe the cold hard credits you can get from just lasting three rounds. Listen—you think I look bad now—it's nothing compared to my starting days. Me and the emergency room was thick as thieves, you know? But now I don't so much have them problems anymore. I've paid off a good portion of my debts, I been sober for a good two years now, and I'm just trying to do something good for myself in this here Hudson Hill.

"Look, Blue—I know people look at me and think I'm crazy or bad news or whatever. I just want you to know I'm not here to bring trouble to anybody. Mrs. McCoy was real nice giving me a job cause not many people do what she done. She understands, you know? She's good people. I know she won't be on my case about whatever it is I do when I leave here or how I make my money. It's not the easiest way, by all means, but it gets me one step further from that old poisoned life I used to live. I rather have a few broken bones than lying cold and dead on some street corner cause I either over dosed or because some John I was trying to turn over got too feisty with his hands, figuring he was doing the world a favor by ridding it of street trash. I'm a survivor, Blue, and I know you is too. I sense that about you. That's why you and me, we connect, on multiple levels.

"So you wanted to know and I trust you enough to tell you," Florence says and gives a simple shrug.

Jim is surprised, and she doesn't know what to say. Eventually, she says, "I always knew you were hardcore."

"Fucking right," Florence agrees with a clenched fist. They go back to picking up bad apples.

Jim says, "Do you think I'll make a good Romeo? The play's six days away and I'm already having doubts."

"Are you kidding me?" Florence says and throws a bad apple at Jim, who skillfully dodges it. "Listen, you beat out any guy I ever met and you don't even have the prick they do between their legs. You're a treasure and you're gonna shine. Listen—when you go to Hollywood, just take me with you."

Jim smiles and throws a bad apple back at her. "So, um—when's your next fight?"

"Why? You gonna come for moral support, Blue?" Florence says with a smirk. She pauses her work to take a smoke break.

Jim scoffs and steals the cigarette, puffing away at it. "I'm serious," she says around a cloud of smoke.

Florence just hums and grabs another cigarette for herself. She lights it and says, "Couple of days. That's all I usually need." She spends the next moment smoking her cigarette down. She steps back and uses her hand to make a square around Jim's outline as she squints one eye. "You think you might want to fight?"

"Me?" Jim snorts as she exhales smoke.

"Yeah, why not? And from what you was telling me about your bike and your long term goals, you could do with this kind of money," Florence points out. "Listen—that's how I got started. I watched one fight and I knew I could do it. Can you fight, Blue?"

Jim can. She's got some training in kickboxing. She doesn't say this though because she doesn't want Florence to think that she'll commit to anything.

"Well, come with me—what's today?" Florence pauses to think. "So this Friday. And then you can decide if you want to put your bid in."

"Fine."

Florence grinds the tip of her cigarette into the bark of the tree she's leaning against before flicking it into her bin.

Jim follows suit before they go back to tossing apples.

True to Florence's random nature, she says, "I need a good fuck."

Jim chokes on air before she gives Florence an incredulous look. "Can't really help you with that," she retorts.

"Oh I know. That's why you and I are gonna go to the after party."

"What after party?"

"Every tournament hosts an after party for the victors," Florence explains. "They never disappoint."

Jim just hums. "Do you have a fighting name?"

"Rookie. They call me the Rookie," Florence replies. "And when you get in on it, you'll be Blue."

Jim snorts. "Whatever you say—Rookie."

888

Friday comes quicker than anticipated.

Jim and Florence go through the daily routine of work on the orchard, but Florence is quiet all the while. Jim doesn't think it's anything odd—she usually goes quiet the day before she shows up with bruises and things. Jim figures its Florence's way of getting in the right mindset for her fights.

When it's time for them to leave, it's about seven o'clock.

Jim leaves Eleanora a vague note, in case she wonders, because Eleanora has gone off somewhere, which works for Jim because she'd rather not fumble through a shitty explanation. She doesn't like lying to Eleanora—she can't really.

They walk on foot into town and go up to Florence's apartment.

Her place is much like she is—chaotic, free-spirited and wild. She's got old century concert flyers pinned to the walls of her studio apartment, along with some autographed guitars. There are tea boxes scattered on different surfaces, as well as ceramic mugs. Clothes are thrown haphazardly everywhere and there are first aid kits littering the floor and strewn open.

Florence changes into a pair of yoga shorts and a sports bra, throwing a skull and bones hoodie over it and zipping up. She takes out all her facial piercings before she wraps her hands with boxing tape.

Jim's wearing her acid wash jeans and an apricot-colored crop top with her studded leather jacket. She's also got on her studded ankle boots and her hair is slicked black in a low bun. She'd thrown the outfit together in hopes she wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb.

Florence has assured her that she looked perfect. "But," she says, before they leave. "You need a little kohl for your eyes. Always makes me feel badass. Sit."

Jim sits obediently and lets her put the liquid liner around her eyes.

"Okay," Florence says when she finishes before she does her own eyes.

There's a loud knock on the door.

Florence goes to answer and on the other side is a large, bald, dark skinned man that looks taller and wider than the doorframe. He looks like he can bench press an elephant.

He glares at Jim.

Florence lifts her hands immediately, "Easy there, Scuzzy. She's good people."

Scuzzy's mouth tightens as he assesses Jim with suspicious dark eyes. "Her blood on your hands," he grunts before he walks off.

Florence sighs before she gestures for Jim to follow. "Don't worry about Scuzzy. He really a big softie. He just looks out for me, you know? He kinda like my manager or coach or whatever."

"He's hugely intimidating," Jim says, because he is. "What did he mean about the blood?" she asks because that's nothing she can just ignore.

"Drama Queen. Don't worry."

Jim watches Florence lock her apartment. "Is he driving us to the wherever?"

Florence nods before they descend the complex steps and go out onto the sidewalk where Scuzzy's big black SUV is waiting.

Jim climbs in the back with Florence and tries not to feel uneasy about the whole arrangement.

Scuzzy drives and blasts his music with all the windows down.

The ride takes two whole hours and though Jim isn't sure, she thinks they may be somewhere near or across the state line.

Scuzzy pulls onto a private road and they go as far as a mile before they reach an abandoned factory.

_What have I gotten myself into, _Jim silently wonders.

Scuzzy parks with the rest of the cars and they all climb out of his car.

Florence and Jim follow him inside the decaying brick building and all Jim can hear is shouts and jeers and cheers.

And blood—she can smell it thickly—along with the smell of tobacco and weed and liquor.

The crowds are thick with all types, some dressed casually while others are in business attire.

Florence guides her over to the other side and they surpass the thick of the crowd to actually make it to the middle where there's a fight brewing between two guys. She leans close and says, "Just stay right here. Scuzzy and I got a few things to sort out but I'll be fighting soon. Lucky for me I only got one I gotta do tonight but that usually means it'll be a bitch of a one."

Jim nods and watches Florence disappear in the sea of bodies. She turns her gaze to the fight and winces slightly at the savagery. Several rounds later, a body falls to the floor and the victor holds up his fist to the cheering crowds with a bloody smile, a dislocated shoulder, and a blackened eye.

There are a few more fights between alternating boxers—girl vs. boy, boy vs. girl, girl vs. girl, boy vs. boy, and even girl vs. boy vs. girl.

Finally Florence steps out and she lifts her wrapped hands as the announcer gives her name. She glances over at Jim and winks.

Jim gives her a thumbs-up and tries to stay optimistic, even when her competitor looks like a humanized Thor. Seriously, there is nothing small about this guy at all. He has long hair and a beard and lots of muscles and did she say the Thor? She meant Thor. This guy was totally Thor.

Florence is impressive, though. Her fighting style is a lot less savage than what Jim would've expected. It's more fluid and well-timed. She aims her punches wherever she can get them to land and ducks out of her competitor's way.

Jim recognizes that Florence is trying to tire him out. Smart. Very smart. Big guy like that—it's her best option.

Florence can't dodge forever—she's jabbed a few good times by Thor. Once in the jaw, twice in the gut, and three times in her sternum (that winds her pretty good).

Jim fidgets as she watches the match slip into the sixth round, but Florence delivers this time around. She uses her legs to get Thor on the ground and when he's down there she climbs on top of his massive chest and pummels his face in with her small fists until his face is a mess of blood.

Scuzzy is the one to pull Florence off of Thor, and the announcer proclaims her as the winner.

Florence holds up her fists with a half-grin before she stumbles over to Jim. "How's that for entertainment?" she questions as she accepts the small towel and bottle of water Scuzzy offers. She has a purpling bruise spreading across her chest, her left cheek, and the right side of her stomach.

"Well," Jim says as she watches her. "I can definitely say it's not something I want to get in on. Good money or not."

Florence gives a one-shouldered shrug. "I'm so ready for that after party."

Jim grins and some of the concern that's been bubbling in her gut fizzles off. "Yeah. Me too."

The after party comes later, virtually around midnight. It's being held at some rich senator's house. This after party is more like a rave because there's a lot of strobe lighting and techno/electro music and glow sticks.

Jim doesn't dance because she doesn't dance, but she does find some random girl who only speaks German to make out with.

Florence is off having the time of her life. In a strange twist of events, she hooks up with Thor (turns out his name is Peter and he's an accountant by day and how weird is that). Florence and Peter grind on each other on the dance floor until they get so close that Jim swears they're fucking, until they actually go off in one of the many rooms of the senator's mansion and do some fucking.

Jim let's random girl (maybe her name is Felicia) go to the open bar and drink martinis, which turn into dakaris, which turn into sex on the beaches, which turn into tequila, which turn into vodka, which turn into jello body shots.

Insert total blackout here.

Jim wakes up on a suede couch on the front lawn of the senator's mansion with a rainbow clown wig on and five different people's numbers written on various parts of her body. She has an awful taste in her mouth and a hangover like you wouldn't believe. She stumbles her way over bodies and trash in search of Florence. She finds her favorite redhead butt-ass naked in bed with Peter—Thor—whoever the fuck he is.

Florence groans but she gets dressed and together they try to locate Scuzzy.

Scuzzy is long gone.

"Fucker," Florence complains but she doesn't really mad nor surprised. They stand out by the marble fountain located at the front of the senator's mansion. Her hair is a mess and her eyeliner is smeared and her bruises have darkened immensely. Not to mention she's got some interesting hand marks on _other _parts of her body that weren't there before.

Jim can only guess that she looks as equally lovely. She looks around as the sunlight stabs her eyes. She makes a mental note to try and figure out which senator this mansion belongs to because she has a feeling he or she really isn't aware that all this happened here.

Florence turns her grey eyes to her. "Why the fuck do you have a rainbow clown afro on, Blue?"

Jim shrugs.

Florence snorts and swats at her fondly. "Come on. Let's go see if we can hitch a ride with someone."

By the time they make it back to Hudson Hill, it's well into noon.

Jim is sweating and feels disgusting and she just wants to take a million showers. She's the first to be dropped off, and she lets them drop her off at the end of the drive.

Florence blows her a kiss as the car pulls off.

Jim waves before she kicks off her shoes and carries them with her as she stumbles towards the house.

And of course, _of course_, this would be the day that she actually runs into Bones. He's sitting out on the front porch with Eleanora and Sheriff Kevin McCoy.

"Hi," Jim says as she walks up the steps. "Um, what's going on guys?"

Eleanora and Sheriff Kevin both look amusedly concerned and relieved.

Bones, however, looks extremely infuriated.

"What's up is that you had people in over their heads worryin' about you," Eleanora explains. "That little note you left didn't help much. '_Be back soon._' Really, James. You and I both know you could've done better than that. I do care if something happens to you."

Jim reddens. "Yeah, okay, I admit I dropped the ball on that one. I didn't know I'd be gone for so long and I didn't want to worry you with the details," she tries to explain.

"But you did worry me," Eleanora presses. "_Especially _when you didn't come home. Not to mention that Gloria claims she saw you and Florence climbin' into a black SUV with tinted windows on the behest of a questionable lookin' gentlemen. Her words, not mine. But you understand how this all seems."

Jim wordlessly nods, feeling very foolish. So, maybe she could have been just a little less vague? Maybe? Shit. She's fucked up.

Bones is glaring at her like he wants to gut her open.

"Now I get I'm not you're momma, but you are still underage and under my care," Eleanora goes on to say. "You have to work with me. Be more specific about where you'll be or how long you might be gone or even a call would do nicely."

"Leonard here was just about to string up the cavalry and look for you," Sheriff Kevin adds with a humored grin. "I don't think I've seen him so concerned."

"I'll thank you to keep your observations to yourself, Sheriff," Bones mutters before he aims his glare to Jim. "Jesus, Kid. You go off into the night and don't come back. What'd you _think_ would happen?"

Jim rubs her arm and fidgets. "I get it," she says. "I'll be more mindful."

Eleanora gives Bones a pointed look. "She doesn't owe us more than that," she remarks.

Bones purses his lips. "Guess not," he grunts before he strides down the steps and disappears around the side of the house.

Jim guesses he's going to ride his horse. She's starting to get that he does that when he's particularly upset.

"Don't mind him," Eleanora says. "He's always had a big heart. And, well, you are sorta family now. He wouldn't be crazy to care if somethin' happened to you. Lord knows I wouldn't be able to take it if any kind of misfortune struck you."

Jim fidgets again and isn't sure what to say about that. She's not used to people caring about her like this.

"Well, I better get goin'. Happy to see you still in one piece," Sheriff Kevin says with a teasing smile. He cocks his head and places a hand on Eleanora's shoulder briefly before he descends the steps and strides over to his patrol car.

Eleanora watches him pull off before she turns her hazel eyes on Jim. "Come on then. You better go get yourself sorted out. Just what've you been up to?" she asks as she eyes her.

Jim explains and isn't surprised when Eleanora's face twists with concern. She doesn't linger so that Eleanora can ask questions. She tucks away in her room and showers. After she's done, she tosses on some shorts and an army green, short sleeved t-shirt. She doesn't put on shoes before she goes downstairs and makes herself a peanut butter and apple jelly sandwich. She wraps it in a napkin before she grabs a chocolate protein shake and walks out the back door.

Jim heads towards to the stables in hopes of finding Bones. She eats her sandwich along the way and drinks her shake right before she reaches the stables. She doesn't find him, much to her disappointment, but one of the horses is missing so she knows he'll come around some time or another.

Jim walks up and down the stalls, observing all of the seven horses that Eleanora owns. Jim wonders why Eleanora has so many if she doesn't ride them. Or maybe she does and Jim hasn't been paying attention.

Bones comes strolling into the stables alongside a large copper black horse. He hesitates for a moment when he sees Jim but in the end he quirks a brow and approaches her. "You lost, Kid?" he says.

Jim huffs. "_No_," she says. "I, um—I was looking for you."

Bones lifts both eyebrows, even as his horse brushes its nose against his ear.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry I made you worry. I'm not used to—" Jim struggles to find the words. "Usually no one cares."

Bones eyebrows drop and furrow. He studies her for a long moment before he snorts and relaxes. He says, "With your pension for trouble, we'd all be fools for not worryin'."

"Hey, I resent that," Jim says and crosses her arms with a mock frown. "I'll have you know that I'm not as incident prone as I seem. Albeit I do run into trouble, but some things are written in the stars and can't be avoided, no matter how much a person tries."

Bones refrains from commenting as he pats his horse's neck. He gazes at her with the same kind of thoughtful intensity he uses when he's in his doctor mode.

"So what's his name?" Jim asks as she eyes the horse and hopes to distract him from trying to figure her out.

"Saturn," Bones grumbles but his gaze becomes no less intense.

Jim fidgets and throws her hands wide. "He is freakin' huge, Bones. What the hell are you feeding him?"

"Steroids."

Jim looks horrified.

Bones rolls his eyes. "That was a joke. Relax," he clarifies and chuckles when Jim gives him a flat look. "He's just a eater. It's in his nature. He's actually normal size, believe it or not."

"What's his breed?" Jim asks as she studies the horse with open fascination.

"Danish Warmblood." Bones studies her expression and rolls his eyes again. "You can pet him, Kid. He ain't gonna bite, he would've been done that by now. You got his approval if he ain't tryin' to run you off."

Jim sticks her tongue out at him before she extends her right hand towards Saturn's long nose. She smiles gladly when Saturn bobs his face into her hand in encouragement while stomping his front left hoof into the ground. He sniffs around her hand and huffs twice before he bobs quickly to bite her hand. Jim jolts and yanks her hand back in shock as Bones laughs.

Jim glares at him for it and points an accusatory finger. "You lied to me, you bastard! You said he wouldn't bite!"

"I stand corrected," Bones chuckles.

Jim kicks him but he just goes on snickering. "You are just the worst," she growls before she stomps off. She tries not to enjoy the way he chases after her.

"Buck up, Kid. He barely even grazed you." Bones makes a grab for her hand but she quickly tucks it behind her. "Let me have a look."

"No! If I die of the gout than that would serve you and your demon horse right!" Jim glares at him as he rolls his eyes.

"You can't get the gout from a horse bite," Bones corrects and makes another grab for her hand but she ducks away.

"Doctors don't know everything! And anyway I'm pretty sure that some kind of illness will befall me—"

"Saturn has had all his inoculations. I think you're in the clear."

"—I had my whole life ahead of me. Oh God. I see spots. My body feels weak," Jim continues, ignoring him, lacing her tone with as much dramatic woe she can muster. "I feel death strangling my soul."

Bones catches her wrist and pulls her hand up. "You're being a big baby," he mutters when Jim clenches her hand into a fist. He slides his fingers over her knuckles while gripping her wrist with a good amount of pressure and eases her fingers open with a gentle touch that weakens her grip. His hazel eyes study her palm thoroughly as he his fingers graze the skin of her inner palm. He then slides his pointer finger along the outside of her pinky and down her palm before he traces the creases of her skin with painstaking thoughtfulness.

Jim shivers against the feeling of sparks she feels shooting up and down her arm as he touches her. He's so gentle and careful—it's—_God. _Not good, not good, not _good. _His gold wedding band practically glares at her as it gleams under the sunlight. She bites her bottom lip as her insides twist.

"There," Bones says quietly. "Not even an indention." He looks up at her with those intense hazel eyes.

Jim swallows and takes her hand back as she shifts away. "Yeah, well—it was a close call," she maintains and crosses her arms.

Bones sighs and rubs the back of his head before he tucks his hands away in his pockets. "You'll live," he mutters and avoids her gaze. He looks towards the stables as a blanket of awkward silence falls over them.

Jim chews on her bottom lip as she rocks on her heels. "So," she starts. "I think this is the most I've seen of you in a while. Are things okay with you and Jocelyn? Or do you enjoy being at the clinic more than anywhere else?"

Bones suddenly looks uncomfortable and defensive.

Jim quickly backtracks. "That was—I didn't mean to make it sound like I was judging you or being nosy," she explains. "I just was wondering."

"Well don't worry about it, Kid," Bones simply says.

Jim frowns and refrains from hitting him or giving a scathing remark. "You don't have to treat me like I'm some stupid teen that doesn't know anything about life," she says. "I'm not asking you to spill your guts. I just—I told you before that I like you. If you get to worry about me then I get to worry about you."

Bones expression becomes contrite. "I don't think your stupid," he says with a severe frown. "You—" He hesitates as he rubs the back of his head. "Your smarter than most of the people in this town, but you try to hide it and I don't get why."

Jim's mouth fidgets but she keeps quiet.

"And you're right," Bones continues. "But I'd rather you didn't worry about me and my complicated marriage. Well, it wont be much of a marriage soon enough." He tucks his hands in his pockets again. "I'm not comfortable thinkin' about it or how it'll affect Joanna. She's my main concern and Jocelyn knows that. She's upset but she understands. We're figurin' it all out. And I've been drownin' my sorrows in overtime at the clinic."

"That's not healthy."

"I know that."

"You need a hobby."

"I ride horses."

"You need _another_ hobby."

"And just what else is there for me to do? _Knit?_"

"I don't know!" Jim gives him an exasperated look. "You could, like, give horseback riding lessons. Offer them to people for free since you obviously don't need the money or maybe you do, but that's something to consider. Whatever you decide to do, it's has to have nothing to do with the clinic because seriously, Bones, it's getting worrisome."

Bones snorts but he doesn't argue the point. "Horseback lessons, huh?" He looks at her. "You volunteerin' as my first student?"

"What? No way." Jim crosses her arms and shakes her head. "But I'm sure you'll have no problem with finding some students."

Bones doesn't seem so certain.

"Just be less of a grouch. We can make flyers. And Florence can be like a co-teacher or whatever. She's good with horses too. You know Florence right?"

Bones quirks an eyebrow.

"Okay, I'll take that as a no. See what happens when you spend hours upon hours in that clinic? You miss the important moments of life."

"She the same one that had you out all hours of the night?"

"Not what's important right now."

"That wasn't a no."

"Now if I tell you she's an underground street fighter you'll just give me this look—_see, that's the one right there_—so why don't we just skip all that and file that under need to know."

"What the hell do you mean she's a street fighter?"

"Need to know. She's good with horses. She'd never street fight a horse. Total animal lover."

"Are _you_ street fighting?"

"Oh my God, can we move on, Bones? I should have never brought it up."

"You're damn right you shouldn't have brought it up. What's she involvin' you in? What exactly does she get up to when she's not here?"

"Stuff. You know. _Things_."

"That don't inspire much confidence, Kid."

"Horses, Bones. Can we just focus on that? Now, should we include glitter on your flyers or would you rather I photoshop your head on a horse?"

888

**Author's Note: ***_shrugs and starts writing the next chapter_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Bones and Jim bicker about the flyers and about skywriting (_"Jesus, Kid—no, just no! No to any part of that!"_) and about Florence's nocturnal habits ("_For the last time, Bones, she's not apart of an occult!"_) until an overcast of clouds pours gallons upon gallons of rain on them. They end up running back to the house and _somehow_ end up on the living room floor around the coffee table bickering over a deck of cards.

"God in heaven, you two are always carryin' on about somethin'. What is it this time?" Eleanora asks as she joins them in the living room with a steaming cup of tea and a large cookbook. She settles in the armchair behind Jim.

"All I'm trying to do is play Spades. I'm good at Spades," Jim explains making wild gesticulations toward Bones, who looks like he wants to shake her.

"And I already told you that I don't know how to play Spades," Bones grouches for the billionth time with a stubborn frown. His arms are crossed and he gives his mother an imploring look.

Eleanora rolls her eyes and sips her tea.

Bones's mouth folds down in a creased frown of betrayal. "Let's play Poker," he suggest.

"Um, no. I don't know how to play Poker."

"I can teach you."

"I can teach _you_."

And that's just gets them started again, fussing at each other with vigorous hand gestures and stubborn frowns and parroting insults.

Eleanora sighs. "How about you play Goldfish or _anythin'_ either of you know how to play?"

"_Because_, Eleanora," Jim says with a sweetly tone, as she meets Bones's gaze dead on. "I want to crush his soul. I can't do that with Goldfish."

"Crush my soul? What are you, an occultist?"

"Again with the fucking occult. _How _many times do I have to tell you that—"

"—I'll think what I like!" Bones snaps.

Jim purses her lips. "You're a dick."

Bones rolls his eyes. "We're playin' Poker and that's that." He starts dealing the cards.

Jim snatches up her cards and grumbles. "Fine. But I'll only play if you put down something for it. Like—" She takes a moment to eye him before her gaze lands on his wrist. She grins. "Your watch."

"You want me to bet my watch in a hand of Poker you don't even know how to play yet?" Bones questions with a raised brow. He seems entirely amused. "What're you gonna put down then?"

Jim makes a show of tapping her chin with her pointer finger as she really thinks about it. "Okay, how about this," she says. "I'll step in as your first student."

"You'll get on a horse?" Bones says with a lot of skepticism.

Jim doesn't blame him. She'd have her doubts too if she were in his shoes. But she's fairly confident she won't lose. "We play one practice game first so you can explain to me the rules and whatnot. _Then _we play for real. And after I beat you, I can show you how to play Spades."

Bones gives a considering pause before her unclasps his watch and sets it on the middle of the coffee table.

Jim lifts her cards so she can hide her grin behind them.

Two games of Poker later and Jim is adjusting Bones's watch to fit her small wrist.

Bones looks absolutely infuriated and affronted.

Eleanora is chuckling into her second cup of tea. "You walked right into that one, Len," she comments.

Bones stops gaping long enough to glare accusingly at them both.

Jim grins smugly as she gives a one-shoulder shrug. "What can I say? I'm a quick study."

"You goddamn hustled me," Bones complains and shuffles the cards.

"Well, I mean, a little bit," Jim concedes before she holds up her wrist. "But you have to admit. This looks way better on me than it ever did on you."

Bones eyes the watch and his lips curl slightly but he refuses to comment. He slaps the deck of cards in front of her. "Just show me how to play your damn Spades game."

"Certainly," Jim quips genially and deals the cards.

The rain continues to come down like it'll never stop. Bones and Jim alternate between card games and bet on simple things like fruit and candy.

Eleanora goes off into the kitchen to make dinner just as they're in the thick of their most challenging game yet.

"This is it," Bones says with a mock somber tone. "You sure you want to go all in for this one, Kid?"

"Sure as my love for chocolate, Bones," Jim says, echoing his tone as she deals the cards.

They spend the next moment eyeing their hands before eyeing each other.

Jim lifts a challenging eyebrow as thunder cracks in the sky.

Bones keeps his face carefully neutral.

Jim narrows her eyes as a grin eats away at her lips.

Bones shakes his hand and points his thumb down as if to say he is sure she's going to lose.

Jim just presses her cards to her smile and gives him the middle finger.

Bones snorts. "I'm puttin' down three boxes of Raisinets, two Reese's cups, and four green apples," he says with a small smirk.

"_Oh_, someone's getting confident," Jim chuckles as she straightens. She shuffles her cards around and eyes them before nodding in satisfaction. "Alright, mister. I see your bid, and I offer _six _Baby Ruth's—you know I really like those—four bananas with one green apple and a, wait for it, juicy plum, plus, and you're gonna wanna pay close attention here, not one, but _two _packs of Ghirardelli dark chocolate—not to mention whatever is left of my Sour Patch Kids popsicles in the freezer."

"I'm callin' your bluff," Bones growls as he narrows his hazel eyes.

Jim just smirks confidently. "Show me what you got, Bones."

Bones holds her gaze as he lays his cards out on the table. "Straight flush," he drawls before he quirks his eyebrow expectantly.

Jim frowns. "What?" she says dramatically as her eyes water. "A straight flush? I just can't believe it."

Bones frowns in confusion before a look of dawning crosses his handsome features.

"A straight flush. Well I'll be a canary in a cage," Jim chimes with an exaggerated southern accent. "You are a man of magic, Bones. I mean, a straight flush."

Bones scowls and crosses his arms. "Okay, Kid. Enough of the theatrics. Just show your damn hand."

"No," Jim gasps as she cocks her head away and presses the back of her hand to her forehead. "I couldn't possibly. Alas, I am in awe of your straight flush. How could I ever hope to beat such a glorious hand? You sir, possess the poker hand of the gods."

"I will strangle you and I will not even feel remotely contrite about it," Bones warns, even though his lips are twitching against a smile.

Jim drops the act and slaps her cards on the table one by one. "Motha-fuckin-royal-flush! Boom!" she exclaims and snaps her fingers as she wiggles her shoulders and hips in a little dance. "You got a Ph.D. in medical science and I got a Ph.D. in kicking your country ass at Poker."

Bones jumps up at her and Jim shouts, knocking the table over in her haste to dodge his grasp. They end up in the kitchen, running around the table.

"Stop being a sore loser, Bones," Jim pants as she skips around the table. "No one likes a sore loser."

"I'll show you a sore loser!"

"Eleanora! Eleanora, help me! He's trying to kill me—_gah—_" Jim throws a chair down in his way as she ducks out onto the back porch, stopping at the edge of the steps and cursing because it's still raining pretty badly. She whips around to see Bones looming in the doorway.

"You're a pain, you know that?" Bones says as he takes a menacing step forward.

"I'm trying to change," Jim begs as she clasps her hands together with pleading look. "I'm just a grifter, Bones. I'm a nobody! But I'll tell you what, I never crossed a friend, Bones. I never killed anybody, and I never crossed a friend, nor you, I'll bet. We're not like those animals! This is not us! This is some hop dream! It's a dream, Bones! I'm praying to you! I can't die! I can't die out here in the woods, like a dumb animal!"

Bones pauses and gives her a strange look.

Jim keeps going, "I'm praying to you! Look in your heart! Look in your heart!"

Bones gets a strange look on his face before it clears. "Miller's Crossing."

Jim drops her hands with a frown. "What?"

"You're quoting Miller's Crossing."

Jim looks at him before she ducks her head and smiles. "I might be," she admits before she looks up at him from under her eyelashes. "I used to watch that movie every day when I was seven."

"Jesus, Kid. Really? That's a bit heavy for a seven year old," Bones says as he crosses his arms.

Jim shrugs. "It was a strange time for me. Not any worse than what I was already going through," she confesses. She flushes and looks horrified. "Oh my God, I didn't mean to say that. Forget I said that."

Bones gaze softens. "Kinda hard to do. What did you mean—"

"How do you know it?" Jim blurts, desperate to cut off his line of questioning. She already feels raw enough from that slip. She can't say what it is about Bones that makes her feel safe enough to absentmindedly bring up her dark past like that. It's troublesome to say the least.

"How do I know what?" Bones says with a somber frown.

"The movie. That I was quoting it," Jim elaborates and tries not to fidget under his focused gaze.

Now it's Bones's turn to look uncomfortable and he rubs the back of his head. He says, "It was my dad's favorite movie. He introduced it to me when I was thirteen, when my mom felt I was old enough to handle the dark themes of it and not wake the whole house up with nightmares. Always kind of stuck with me."

Jim tries to envision Bones at a younger age, wide-eyed and horrified in front of a TV as Bernie begged for his life with a heartfelt plea that could make even the devil cry and Tom just staring at him blankly as he pulls the trigger anyway. She thinks she might have liked to see that vulnerable side of him—to know what kind of kid he was.

"We could watch it," Bones offers quietly, and seems entirely unsure after he says it but his expression turns resolute. "Haven't seen it in a long time. There's—I think my momma still has my father's copy lyin' around somewhere."

Jim is surprised by the offer, but even more so, she's very pleased. "Yeah," she says. "It's been a while for me too," she admits and somehow she feels like they're not just talking about the movie.

Bones nods grimly and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

Eleanora's stern voice comes floating from inside the house, "You two better get your asses in here and clean up this mess! Ridiculous! My coffee table is on its side and there's fruit and candy everywhere! I swear to Jesus I will wrap my hands around ya'll necks and squeeze! Oh dear God, look at this! In the kitchen too! James! Leonard! I know you two hear me!"

Bones and Jim share a significant look before they duck back into the house again.

Jim straightens out the front room while Bones takes care of the kitchen.

When everything is all sorted out, they all sit down at the kitchen table and eat the spaghetti-chili that Eleanora made while she glares at the two of them and shakes her head disapprovingly.

Jim and Bones exchange wordless glances as they both try to tamper down their smiles and bury their laughter somewhere deep.

From there, Bones goes down into the basement to look for Miller's Crossing while Jim sweet-talks Eleanora into letting them watch it in her room since she's the only one with a TV and a disc player.

After that, Jim sits on the floor at the end of Eleanora's bed with Bones to her immediate left and a large ceramic bowl of popcorn between them.

Eleanora is settled in her bed and cozied up to her pillows as she watches the movie with them.

The room is dark and the light of the TV makes the shadows dance.

Jim really tries to concentrate on each scene, but when her fingers brushes Bones's as they both make a distracted grab for some popcorn, it's kind of hard to do.

Jim eventually gives up eating the popcorn and hugs her knees to her chest she stares up at the flat screen propped against the wall.

Sometime into Bernie's heartfelt plea, Bones attention shifts and focuses on her.

Jim feels his gaze burning into the side of her face while she stares up at the TV with glistening eyes as she chews desperately on her bottom lip. It's the same reaction she always gets on this part, even when she knows what's coming. Her toes wiggle as anxiety rides up and down the vertebrae of her spine.

Bones just watches her watching this iconic scene, and he doesn't even pretend that he's doing anything else.

It makes her face burn in embarrassment as a few tears slide down her cheeks when Tom pulls the trigger. She knows it's a bit silly to cry over a movie, but she can't help it. She's always been emotionally invested when it came to books or cinematic videos.

Jim starts a bit at the soft touch of tissue she feels being placed in her hand. She looks over at Bones but he's already ducking his gaze away to the TV. She sniffs and wipes her tears before turning her eyes to the movie again.

Eleanora's loud snore pierces the dark and diffuses the tension.

Both Bones and Jim share a look before they laugh quietly and turn their attention to the movie again.

When the credits roll onto the screen, Jim stands with a sigh and stretches quietly. She takes a moment to notice that it's still raining outside.

Bones grabs the popcorn bowl and switches off his mother's TV before he gestures for Jim to follow. They quietly tiptoe out of her room and make their way down the stairs.

Jim grips the banister as she trips on the last step and Bones reaches out to steady her by gripping both her shoulders from behind.

"Careful, Kid. Can't have you crackin' that skull of yours," Bones drawls as he steers her to the kitchen. "Now," he says as he stands her before the sink of dishes before rounding the kitchen table to sit down. He sits down before he props his feet up. "I think you oughta do somethin' about that."

"Oh should I?" Jim laughs as she turns and puts her hand on her hips. "What about you, Doctor? You're the only one not pulling your weight around here."

"My weight huh?" Bones echoes with a heavy amusement in his gruff voice. "I contribute plenty."

"So do I."

Bones gazes at her with a neutral expression.

Jim stares back.

Bones crosses his arms and lifts both eyebrows.

Jim just furrows her brow and crosses her arms too.

"Someone has to clean this kitchen."

"I agree."

"Well, what are you waitin' for?"

"You to start."

"Really now?"

"Oh absolutely."

Bones just goes on staring.

Jim presses her lips together tightly before she says, "Bet you for it."

"Over what?" Bones says with a small smirk, like this is all very amusing for him. "You already nicked me for my Rolex."

"Rock, paper, scissors," Jim replies as she rolls her eyes and hands him his watch back. She wasn't being entirely serious when she took it anyway. "Best two out of three. Winner passes on kitchen duty."

"What are we, in grammar school?" Bones huffs and watches her approach him with a grin on her face as she knocks his feet off the table so she can lean against it.

Jim holds her palm out and props her fist over it as she gives him an expectant look. "Unless you're scared I'll win again?"

"You're not gonna bait me into this, Kid."

"Take your time if you have to, old man. I know the pressure from your last defeat is still overwhelming you."

Bones rolls his hazel eyes before he sits up and copies her hands.

"On three, we drop," Jim says. "So one, two, three—and then you just go. Got it?"

Bones just mutters something.

Jim rolls her eyes at him this time. "Don't be surprised when you lose."

Bones doesn't lose. In fact, he wins the next _four_ rematches. It's completely fucking crazy.

Jim runs through those matches in her mind with an agitated frown while she scrubs out a big pot caked in tomato sauce and crushed beans.

Bones is sitting at the table eating one of _her _Sour Patch Kids popsicles. And even though her back is to him, she can feel how insufferably smug he is. And it certainly doesn't help when he says, "No one likes a _sore loser_."

"Shut up," Jim mutters as the pot slips from her hands and splashes hot dishwater across her stomach. She curses and sighs. She picks it up again and scrubs. "You know," she grumbles. "You totally hustled me. There's no way someone like you is so good at rock, paper, scissors. I mean, really."

"I've always had a pension for it," Bones merely says. He sounds so—its like he's being vaguely egotistical while at the same time being blatantly bigheaded. "What can I say? I'm a _quick study_."

Jim is going to throw this pot at his head. She says, "Maybe you should have mentioned that before we played. You let me walk right into that."

"Hm. Sounds a bit familiar, now don't it?" Bones counters and takes a particularly loud slurp of his popsicle.

Jim winces and glares down at the pot in her hands. She doesn't say anything else. She just keeps scrubbing the big pot with as much dignity as possible, even though on the inside she's kicking up quite the tantrum.

Bones watches her silently and eats his, no, _her_ sour green apple freeze pop.

Jim is halfway finished with planning his murder when she hears him heave a great sigh as his chair screeches against the floor while he stands. She frowns and listens to him approach, a bit confused.

Bones gently pushes her to the side and takes the big pot from her. "You're doin' a piss poor job of this, I hope you know. You'd think you'd never washed dishes before," he mutters as he grabs a special sponge from off the edge of the sink and uses it to scrub the pot. It begins to clear with no trouble.

"Don't make fun of me," Jim says in a distracted fashion, watching him work. "It's not really my area. Now, floors on the other hand. I can—" She stops short, biting her tongue when she realizes she's revealing too much about herself. _Again._

Bones notices the pause and he eyes her briefly before he rinses out the big pot. "You scrub floors a lot from where you come from?" he asks carefully.

Jim fidgets and leans away into the adjacent counter as she folds her arms defensively. "I was a bit of a problem child," she says, not lying but not telling the whole truth.

"You?" Bones whistles and gives her a small smile. "Can't be bothered to believe that for a second."

Jim feels her lips curl slightly as the sinking knot of depression that had begun to tighten loosens. "Don't be a jerk," she says with a slight grin.

"Wasn't really tryin' to be," Bones merely says before he turns away and begins cleaning out a glass cup. "I know how it sounded, but, I honestly don't think you were a problem child. Energetic and mischievous, maybe, but, I think that's mostly because you weren't bein' challenged enough."

Jim's brow furrows for a second. He's not too far off from being right. He's trying to figure her out again and it makes her uncomfortable. "So what about you?" she says, scrambling for a different topic. "What were you like as a child?" She eyes his side profile. "Let me guess—dissecting frogs and slapping band-aids on as many injuries as you could."

Bones snorts and shakes his head. "One—it was Choctaw Hogs that I was cuttin' open. My dad thought I'd learn much more from them then I ever would from a bouncin' cold-blooded amphibian. And two—the human body has no need for band-aids. In the event of an injury, small disk-shaped structures in the blood called platelets interact with collagen and cause the blood to coagulate and—" He pauses when he notices the way she's looking at him.

Jim is severely amused and fighting down a smile. "No," she struggles to say around her smile. "Keep going. This is all very interesting. I bet you gave this same speech when you were little, didn't you?"

Bones bristles and flings a bit of soapsuds at her.

Jim gasps as it lands right across her left eye, and she slaps her hand over it in an attempt to fight the oncoming sting she feels building up. "Bones!" she shrieks. "You great big bag of dicks!"

Bones hands her a wet napkin. "You provoked me," he calmly explains. He says nothing when she snatches the napkin viciously.

Jim glares at him with one eye as she dabs at the other. "First you let your demon horse bite my hand off. Then you try and blind me with soap," she complains. "I don't know how much more abuse I can take."

"I'm not abusin' you," Bones says, looking very horrified at the thought.

Jim finds it endearing. She dabs her left eye until its stop watering. "Okay. Maybe not abuse," she concedes with a soothing tone.

Bones says nothing as he finishes washing the last plate.

"But you have been mean to me," Jim adds, unrepentant. "Why are you such a cranky bastard?"

Bones mutters something as he rinses off the last plate and puts it with the rest of the dishes in the dish rack. He turns to Jim and says, "You ever hear the expression, '_You catch more bees with honey_'?"

Jim nods.

"It's a load of crap," Bones says. "I learned a long time ago that 'nice' ain't what makes people pay attention. I'm polite when I have to be, but that don't matter when I know it's not what's gonna help. Sometimes what we all need is 'mean' and 'surly'." He uses a nearby towel to rub his hands dry. "Just my view of things."

"Good view to have," Jim teasingly praises. "And, um, don't take me too seriously when I say things. I'm only just—being kind of stupid."

"Haven't we already discussed this?" Bones says with a cocked brow. "Stupid ain't the word to describe you with. And I certainly can't help but to take you seriously most times. You're a whirlwind."

Jim shrugs and shifts her gaze away, feeling as young as she must look in that moment.

Bones drains the sink and puts the towel back before he turns and eyes the rest of the kitchen. It's silent for a long time, but most of it is comfortable. He faces her again and scrutinizes her for a half of a moment.

Jim counts to three before she meets his gaze.

Bones looks like he deciding what expression he should wear. He eventually sticks to something less guarded than usual. "Goodnight, Ms. Kirk," he drawls, ironically enough.

Jim's lips curl. She feels her shoulders relax. "Goodnight, Dr. McCoy," she replies.

Bones snorts before he nods a final time. He lingers a second longer before he makes his way to the stairs and up them.

Jim is left alone in the kitchen with her thoughts and the sound of heavy rainfall.

888

During breakfast the next morning, Eleanora announces, "Church is canceled. Somethin' about a water pump that leaked and—_you get that gleeful look off your face right now, James, you little heathen—_and I'm not sure on the details but it's lookin' like it was caused by that never-endin' thunderstorm last night."

"Figures," Bones mutters as he butters his biscuit. He's wearing jeans and a fitting light grey thermal shirt. His hair is still messy from sleep but he looks more rested than he has in a while. "That place is as old as dirt. Bobby's mentioned that he's said more than enough times to Reverend Nolan that he's in dire need of some renovatin'."

Jim chases some egg whites around her plate with the tip of her fork. Honestly, she doesn't care what the problem is with the church. She'll take any excuse not to go. Reverend Nolan gave the driest, longest, and most boring sermons known to mankind. And maybe that's an exaggeration because she's never really gone to church, but there has _got _to be more to it than what that old man was offering.

So yeah, Jim's thinkingthis is already turning out to be a good day.

"Well," Eleanora sighs as she puts a little more sugar in her bowl of oatmeal. "I suppose I oughta use this time to go and visit with my Great Aunt Pearl down in Liberty County. Been a minute since I sat with her. Bet she'll tell me all about that too. Good thing I baked that cherry pie yesterday." She pauses and looks at Jim with an assessing eye. "Your fingers didn't find their way in it, did they?"

Bones looks particularly interested in the answer to this as well.

Jim rolls her eyes at both of them. Sure, she had _thought _about it. But ultimately she put it out of her mind because there was no way she would willingly make Eleanora cross with her. "I didn't touch it obviously. It's not like you wouldn't be able to tell. I would have hives all over me. Can't hide that," she mutters and takes a bite of her biscuit.

"Well, good," Eleanora merely states. She picks up her mug of coffee and looks at Jim over the rim of it. "Would you like to come with me? I hear they have some lovely churches out that way. We can make up for the service we'll have missed today."

Jim makes such a horrified face that both Eleanora and Bones snicker.

"Let her be, momma," Bones interjects. "You know you'd only bore her to tears if you dragged her out to see Aunt Pearl. That woman knows she can talk for ages about the good ole days."

Eleanora just hums thoughtfully. "I suppose," she says, gracefully enough. She sets her sights on him. "And just what will you be doin' today, Len?"

"Horses could do with a bit of cleanin' and trimmin'. And the stables need a hand to them too," Bones simply replies with a light shrug as he finishes his bowl of oatmeal.

Eleanora seems surprised to hear him say so. "Not goin' to the clinic today?" she questions with deliberate emphasis.

Bones glances at Jim before he stands and turns with his dishes. "I'm givin' it a rest," he grumbles.

"Well it's about time," Eleanora agrees. She gives Jim a covert wink and continues, "Whoever pulled you out of that slump has my utmost gratitude." She looks to Bones again but his back is to them. "You do worry me when you go and carry on like that. Your daddy used to do the same thing. Drove me up the wall till I was peelin' paint." She shakes her head before she veers toward the stove.

Bones disappears up to his room.

Jim doesn't plan on moving anytime soon. She's still hungry, even though she's just polished off her second bowl of oatmeal. She didn't have to even move to get the third bowl; Eleanora fixed it without having to be asked, as she will often do. Jim tries not to feel spoiled, but it does make her happy that Eleanora is so doting.

"Jamie, what are your plans?" Eleanora asks as she knifes free another biscuit for her. "I'm almost afraid to ask."

"Don't be. My plans for today are completely innocent," Jim promises as she spreads some apple jelly over her biscuit. "I'm going to go check on Florence and keep her company. I heard there's a carnival in town."

"You heard right," Eleanora confirms. She watches Jim eat for a few moments before she cups her hand over the back of Jim's neck with an affectionate squeeze. "Behave yourself and don't you eat nothin' you ain't supposed to."

"I second that," Bones says, making an appearance again. He's got on some hiking boots and some work gloves. "Don't need you givin' me a reason to haul you to the hospital."

Jim just opens her mouth and reveals her food-covered tongue.

Bones winces and shakes his head. "What are you? Twelve?"

"Just turn thirteen actually," Jim counters with a smug grin and smiles when Eleanora pats her cheek.

"Alright you two. Don't start," Eleanora warns before she heads to the stairs. "I'm on my way out, so if you want me to drop you off in town, I suggest you get ready."

Jim nods and quickly finishes her food before dumping her dishes in the sink. She waves at Bones as he heads out the back door and treks towards the stables.

Eleanora is kind enough to pull up to Florence's complex and sends Jim up with some leftovers from dinner last night.

Jim climbs four flights of stairs before she makes it to Florence's door.

Florence answers on the second knock and the scowl she's wearing immediately goes away. "Hey, Blue. Wasn't expecting you."

"Obviously," Jim says with a smile and shoves the plastic container of food into her chest.

Florence winces and complains, "Easy there. I'm still sore from the fight." She wastes no time ripping open the dark lid and finding a fork to start eating, not bothering with the motions of heating it up.

Jim walks over to a beanbag chair littered with different sets of acid ripped jeans and she swipes it all off before she plops down. She watches Florence pace the length of the room as she eats because Florence is most certainly odd like that.

"What brings you over? Not that I'm not glad or anything," Florence questions around a mouthful of food.

"Carnival's in town. Thought you might want to be my date," Jim explains with an easy grin as she grabs the metal slinky from off the ground and plays with it.

"Fucking yes, Blue. It's been so long since I been to one of those," Florence admits as her eyes begin to water. "Goddamn. You make this?"

Jim shakes her head. "Eleanora's specialty."

"It's spicy as shit but it's good," Florence decides and pauses long enough to grab one of her many half-empty bottles of water. She takes some sips before she resumes her eating.

Jim observes her and asks, "Where are you from, Florence?"

"What? I never said?"

Jim shakes her head.

"Boston. Not the nice swanky parts either. I'm talking the real downhill slums," Florence replies.

_That explains the accent, _Jim quietly thinks.

"What about you, Blue? What place was lucky enough to have you?"

"Riverside, Iowa."

"No kidding," Florence says as she sets down the (now empty) container. "So what you think we should do in the mean time? I'd like to go at night. Much prettier that way."

Jim agrees, so she thinks of the things they could do. "Well I was talking to Bones the other day and—"

"Whoa, hold the brakes there. Who's Bones?" Florence is sporting a very perplexed expression.

Jim laughs at her for it. "Bones as in Leonard McCoy. Eleanora's son. The doctor."

"Ah," Florence breathes in recognition. "Yeah, okay. I follow you. What was you saying?"

"I was just saying that the other day him and I were talking about him considering giving horseback lessons for free. I think it'd only be on the weekends since he works at the clinic on weekdays. So I thought you and I could make some flyers for it and post it around town." Jim waits a fraction of a second before she adds, "And I also thought that since you're so good with horses, you could help out."

"Quite an idea, Blue. But you know what I got going on. I don't think I could find the time," Florence says, looking as doubtful as she sounds.

"It wouldn't be so time consuming. I think you and Bones could compromise like on the days you could help out. He's reasonable when he wants to be," Jim assures before she stands. "Listen, it'd be more helpful than you think."

Florence squints an eye and mulls it over before she nods. "Ah, okay. Just for you though, Blue. You seem like you really care about this whole thing."

Jim plays it off with a shrug. "Let's go to library. I know we can find all the materials we need to make the flyers there."

"Lead the way, my angel."

The walk to the library is a relatively short one.

With the help of Tomoharu, Jim and Florence find themselves on the third floor where the Arts & Crafts Resource Center lays in wait. They get everything they need and tuck away in a small study room with shiny glass tables and stylish wheelie chairs.

Between Florence and Jim, the flyers come out looking like a fairy cracked up on LSD threw up on a neon piece of paper.

"God, that isan _eyesore_," Jim says as she winces while staring at the tall heap of flyers. They probably should've stopped after the first one.

"It's an attention grabber," Florence offers, going for optimistic, even though her face is pinched with utter revulsion. "We definitely can't say anyone'll walk right past it without notice."

"Yeah but—I mean we should have at least put some like—I don't know—horses on there?" Jim asks as she eyes them.

"That's what the stickers were for," Florence points out as she watches Jim pick up a flyer.

Jim cocks her head and says, "Oh yeah, I see it. It's kind of drowning in the glitter but, yeah, there it is."

"And anyway," Florence continues because she is never done. "We've got the three most vital things, right? Name, address, and contact."

Jim gingerly lays the festive flyer down as though she's afraid it'll explode in a fiery bomb of glitter. "Eleanora is going to kill me," she decides. "She hates unexpected calls."

"Blame Dr. Bones then," Florence suggests, like it's just that easy.

"Let's just go pass this out and avoid getting as much glitter on us as possible," Jim recommends. She takes half the stack and gives the other half to Florence.

"I'm telling you, Blue," Florence comments as they make their way out of the library, but not without posting a flyer on the bulletin board in the lobby by the doors. "Your Dr. Bones is gonna have so many clients, he's not gonna know what to do with his self, he'll be so happy."

Jim snorts. "I really got to get around to introducing you two," she decides. "You both have some pretty heavy misconceptions about each other."

Florence shrugs agreeably.

It takes them several hours to post the flyers up and down town, and when they have finished they find themselves circling back to Town Square where the carnival has been set up. They collect their tickets and began to stroll along the row of game and concession stands.

"I bet you want something to eat, don't you, Blue?" Florence says with a knowing look.

Jim does her best to appear affronted.

Florence snorts and says, "Save it, fatty. Let's go get you some cotton candy and watch you bounce around. My treat."

Jim just grins as Florence throws a freckled arm over her shoulders and steers her to the cotton candy booth.

Jim's happily sucking sour green apple cotton candy from her fingers as Florence munches away on some red vines. They both look like some loitering teens up to no good and looking for trouble. At least, that's the kind of looks they keep receiving. Florence and Jim just flash a few disarming grins at all the passing spectators. That does enough to send them on their way.

Mrs. Gloria Albright waddles over sometime after Jim starts working on her third stick of cotton candy.

"Here comes trouble," Jim mutters as she touches shoulders with Florence, who snickers at the truth of it. "Mrs. Gloria. How are you?"

"I been better," Gloria huffs as she fans herself with a decorative hand fan that looks as showy as she is. "Everythin' has gone to hell, oh pardon my squalor talk."

Jim lifts an eyebrow. "What's going on?"

"Well as you may or may not know, this whole event is to raise some sizeable income to support the Rec Center and it's numerous activities," Gloria explains with a rushed southern drawl. "But our main attraction—the one that was standin' to make the most—is dead and without a host."

"That rhymes," Florence points out as she sucks on the tip of a red vine.

Gloria's hawkish gaze narrows on her and she regards Florence with a judgmental and soured expression. "James, tell your friend that it ain't polite to bud in on other people's conversation."

"Or, you know, you could tell me yourself, sweetheart," Florence sweetly suggests.

Gloria bristles. "I don't talk to your kind," she warns. "You're an abomination to the good Lord's original design."

"Don't hate because I wear it better than you ever could," Florence counters with a sassy snap of her fingers.

Gloria splutters with a revolted look. "I don't know what kind of man you were before but—"

Florence's expression darkens before it completely shudders into absolute detachment.

Jim decides to step in and intermediate. "Mrs. Gloria, where's that gleaming southern hospitality of yours? In the bible it warns against judging others. Jesus preached a message of love. You understand where I'm going with this, don't you?" she says patiently.

Gloria's lips purse and she fans herself with the most dignified expression she can muster. "Pardon me, Mr—_Ms. _Florence. I am ornery over the situation and I let it get the best of me. If God can stand to live with your _choices _without rainin' fire and brimstone from heaven above, then I reckon I can do the same," she says.

Florence's lips curl upwards in an eerie echo of a smile and it makes even Jim want to crawl out of her skin. "You are just too kind, Mrs. Gloria," she sarcastically drawls with her best southern accent.

Jim gives Florence a subtle nudge with her elbow. "So what was this dilemma you're having?"

"Oh yes," Gloria says as she remembers. "Charlene was mannin' the kissin' booth when she got struck with a sudden bout of food poisonin'. Now we've got no one to take her place!" To be fair, she pauses meaningfully for quite a bit before she gazes at Jim imploringly. "That is, if some kind and generous soul, could just find it in their _big, warm _heart, then just maybe this whole shindig could be saved and the Rec Center can stay open for the kids just a little _longer_…"

Jim looks up at the blood orange lining of the darkening sky, which is cloaking the lowering sun. "Here's an idea," she says flatly. "Why don't I man the booth?"

Florence cackles under her breath like the evil witch she is and steals some of her cotton candy.

Gloria claps her meaty hands together. "Oh would you, James? Oh, cause you know I would be _so_ darn grateful if you did," she swears. "Okay come with me, we've still got a good six hours before we shut it all down."

Jim looks back at Florence helplessly as she stumbles after Gloria, who is dragging her to the other side of the carnival. They come to a pink and red booth littered with fluffy cotton clouds and glittery kiss shapes.

Gloria shoves her inside before she sets down a PADD. "Now they don't pay in tickets like some of the others. All they have to do is touch their fingers here," she says, indicating to the screen of the PADD. "And the payment is transferred. Fifteen credits for the '_Kiss of Friendship_'and that's a cheek kiss, very innocent—now you put on the pink lipstick for that." She sets down the tube of lipstick before Jim. "And it's thirty credits for the '_Kiss of Love_' and that's with contact of the lips, closed mouth of course. You do that with the red lipstick." She sets the tube down. "And last, but not least, the '_Kiss of Passion_' and that one's a bit more trickery. You make contact with the lips and tease with a bit of tongue but nothing too heavy, and it also includes the two previous kisses. That requires the dark red lipstick. That's gonna run them for fifty credits. Understand?"

"Sure," Jim says with a shrug and silently adds, _I'm basically a hooker now._

"I know what you're thinkin'. Germs. Yuck. Couldn't we all do without 'em? But lucky I bought this antibacterial mouth sealant," Gloria says and hands over a small spray bottle with clear liquid. "Mint-flavored for customer satisfaction."

Jim takes it and sprays the inside of her mouth, feeling it foam over her tongue and the grooves of her teeth before melting away with a tingling sensation.

Gloria steps back and narrows her eyes in thought. "James, dear—you don't want to let your hair down a bit? Oh I bet you'd look so—"

"No, I'm good," Jim interjects as she sits down. "Don't worry. I'll make that money for you, boss."

Gloria nods and waddles away.

Jim taps her fingers against the table of the booth and watches people pass her by. She stands and shrugs off her leather jacket before she undoes the first three buttons of her apricot blouse. Then she puts her hand on her hips and aims a gorgeous smile all around.

An hour later and Florence joins her in the booth, whistling in amazement at the long line that Jim's earned. She says, "This explains why I've been seeing so many people walk around with lipstick all over their face in different shades."

Jim tosses her a disarming grin before she leans forward and kisses another customer. She gives a little wave and says, "Why don't you come put your bid in?"

"Oh you'd like that wouldn't you?" Florence laughs before she ducks out of the booth. "Get ready for it," she warns as she gets in line.

Jim just chuckles and leans forward to kiss another customer and waves them off with a grin and a wink.

Tomoharu steps up next with a shy grin. "I've come to show my support," he explains.

"Awesome," Jim exclaims. "You here by yourself?"

Tomoharu flushes and ducks his gaze as he removes his hat. "I came with Asiyah," he admits.

"Oh, like a date?" Jim teases.

Tomoharu nods and Asiyah joins him with a big stuffed bear. "Bought you a kiss, darlin'," he says to her.

Asiyah lifts a brow and looks to Jim who grins cheekily. "Thank you?" she says.

Jim laughs. "He bought the totally PG kind, don't worry. Besides, you and I will be kissing plenty during the opening weekend of Romeo and Juliet."

Asiyah smiles and leans forward, accepting Jim's pink kiss on her cheek. "Wonderful," she compliments.

"Thanks," Jim says with a wink. "You two have fun now. Enjoy your _date_."

Asiyah grins happily and waves as she takes Tomoharu's arm. They stroll away.

Eventually Florence makes her way to the front of the line and she's got a determined look on her face. She slaps down her hand on the PADD and pays for the '_Kiss of Passion'_. She says, "Do your worst."

Jim smirks and leans forward. She pulls out all the stops for this kiss, first gentling into it before adding her teeth and tongue into the equation, coaxing Florence's lips open to sink inside for a filthy kiss that makes Florence shudder. She pulls away, giving Florence's bottom lip one last lick before peppering her cheeks and nose with extra kisses.

Florence looks pleasantly dazed when Jim leans away. "Damn, Blue," she sighs with a shuddering breath. "You make me want to come in there after you."

Jim hums as her lips curl. "Glad I could make it good for you."

"Best fifty I ever spent."

Jim laughs as Jocelyn, Joanna, and a tall, very tan, gray-haired man with deep age lines and sharp green eyes and an even sharper suit (he looks like some kind of news anchor), come strolling up. Her laughter dies off a bit as her defenses rise.

Florence mutters some bullshit excuse about having to go to the bathroom and conveniently disappears.

Jim is so going to throttle her for it when she gets the chance.

"Ms. Kirk! Ms. Kirk!" Joanna exclaims from beside Jocelyn. She's holding one of Jocelyn's manicured hands. "What're you doin' in there?"

"Selling kisses," Jim explains with a friendly smile. She glances at Jocelyn and her older gentleman companion. "Hello, Jocelyn." You can't ever say Jim isn't polite when she needs to be.

Jocelyn lifts a finally arched brow and gives Jim that one look she always does—that look that says Jim is so outside of the realm of Jocelyn's league and Jocelyn pities her for it. She says, "Ms. Kirk." She indicates to the man beside her. "My father. Mayor Treadway."

Mayor Treadway aims a sharp politician smile that's all pristinely white teeth at Jim as he steps forward and offers a hand. "Ms. Kirk. My daughter's told me quite a few things about you," he says, and unlike his daughter, he's got that Georgian drawl, but its deep and heavy with calculation. He looks like he expects something valuable out of this conversation.

Jim puts on her best naïve grin and shakes his hand. "Wow. Mayor Treadway—what an _honor_," she gushes.

Jocelyn's green eyes narrow and her lips curl slightly, like she knows what Jim is playing at, having been at the end of it before.

Jim ignores her and continues, "You have such a beautiful town. I am so happy to have stumbled across it. Feels like home."

Mayor Treadway straightens and uses his hand to smooth his tie down before placing his hand on the crown of Joanna's head. "I take pride in Hudson Hill. I reckon it shows," he supposes as he assesses Jim rather quickly. "And whereabouts do you hail from, Ms. Kirk?"

"Oh nowhere special," Jim assures as she puts her hands on her hips and doesn't miss the way Mayor Treadway's green eyes dip to her cleavage unapologetically. "Enjoying the carnival, sir?"

Mayor Treadway glances up with a small smirk. "All the more now, I imagine," he remarks lightly. "Say—how old are you?"

Jocelyn's expression darkens and she looks at her father with sharp disapproval. "We don't need to bother Ms. Kirk about her age," she says evenly.

Mayor Treadway's smirk lengthens but he doesn't look at his daughter. "Nonsense, Joyce," he replies as he straightens his tie again. "Take no offense, Ms. Kirk. I only ask because we get in the habit of hostin' debutante balls. This summer, we're lookin' to elect a new Ms. Hudson Hill. Gorgeous smile like yours is sure to win a few votes, and seein' as how you're stayin' with Eleanora, and she is daughterless, I think she'd be mighty pleased to sponsor you. After all, the McCoys have been around almost as long as the Treadways." He smiles this time as his gaze catches Jocelyn. "My daughter went for it all four years. Won every one," he says with a hint of pride.

Jocelyn gives a quick hollow smile before her expression eases into something disinterested.

"Well," Mayor Treadway continues as he looks to Jim again. "Somethin' to just think about, Ms. Kirk. We like for everyone to be involved in events around here. Brings us all closer."

Jim isn't really sold on it but she keeps smiling and nodding.

"Ms. Kirk?" Joanna says, looking tired of all the adult conversation. "What ya sellin' kisses for?"

"To raise money and make people happy. Everyone can do with a kiss," Jim explains.

Joanna's mouth twists with a thoughtful frown. She looks over to Mayor Treadway. "Paw-paw, can you buy me a kiss?"

Mayor Treadway laughs with genuine amusement and he glances at Jocelyn but she makes no indication of how she feels about it. "Sure, darlin'," he says and steps forward to press his hand against the PADD. He then turns and lifts Joanna so she's face to face with Jim.

Joanna looks at Jim eagerly. "I'm ready," she promises and presents her cheek.

Jim smiles and leans forward to give her a big pink smacking kiss. She pulls back and says, "There you go."

Joanna beams and touches her cheek proudly as Mayor Treadway sets her down. "You're a good kisser, Ms. Kirk!" she compliments.

"I aim to please, Ms. Joanna," Jim says. "It wasn't all me though. Your cheek was perfect."

Joanna preens.

"Come along, Joanna," Jocelyn drawls as she steers her daughter away. "We'd better head over to the Ferris Wheel while they're still offering rides."

Mayor Treadway flashes another smile at Jim with a nod. "Ms. Kirk. Be seein' you," and he says it like a strange promise. He follows after his daughter and granddaughter.

Florence _conveniently _returns about two minutes later.

Jim's gearing up to fuss at her but Florence just shoves two corndogs in her hands and all is forgiven.

All in all, Gloria is very pleased with Jim's profits and she makes it known. Though its hard to concentrate on what Gloria's saying when Florence is pressing close to her and making inappropriate comments under her breath about how Gloria is Jim's pimp now and how it probably wont be long until Jim becomes Gloria's number one escort.

Jim's blue eyes water with her strain to keep her laughter in and she jabs Florence with her elbow to shut her up.

It doesn't work.

Gloria eventually waddles away, but not without saying, "Don't forget, James. Wednesday and Thursday is dress rehearsal."

Florence drags Jim to a game stand and wins her a huge purple monkey.

Jim hauls it with a struggle to Florence's complex, where she drops her off. Then she travels home along the side of the road with her stuffed toy piggybacking her. When she reaches the house and jogs up the steps to the front door, she realizes that she's going to have a hard time fitting the toy through the door.

Jim goes for the gentle method.

Doesn't work.

Jim goes for the drop kick method.

_Still _doesn't work.

Jim goes for the tug and pull method.

Useless.

Jim does the back up several steps, run like a freight train and tackle method.

Success.

But it does also send Jim tucking and rolling to the bottom of the steps. It's a good thing that no one is home to witness this spectacularly embarrassing moment. She sighs and stands, dragging her purple monkey up the steps and to her room—

"Motherfuck!"

She forgot about the door to her room.

888

Romeo and Juliet opens that Friday.

Jim peeks out through the slit of the heavy red curtain to look at the gathering crowds. Gloria had warned them that opening night would incur a full house, and the theatre looked crammed with half of Hudson Hill.

"These people really like their drama," Jim mutters to herself before Asiyah grabs her by the wrist and drags her to the dressing rooms where Zuhi and Zonta are fitting everyone to their costumes and applying makeup.

It had taken some convincing, but Jim got Gloria to take Zuhi and Zonta onto the costume crew. They were really capable and Gloria was already short-staffed.

Zonta shoves Jim's costume into her chest and fusses at her to get dressed.

Jim reappears in renaissance attire suited for the men during that period.

Zuhi works quickly to pin a dark haired wig on Jim's head before giving her enough makeup to be seen on the stage. "Alright," she says as she steps back and gives Jim a once over. "Damn. You make a hot love-sick teenaged guy," she compliments.

Jim laughs and looks herself over in the mirror.

Asiyah comes find her. She's wearing a royal blue period dress with a matching hijab. Her makeup looks truly amazing and she makes a stunning Juliet.

"I'm not going to have to fake that kiss," Jim says as she presses close to Asiyah with a flirty smile and shifting eyebrows.

Asiyah giggles with a blush and pushes Jim away. "Stop it," she says.

Jim press close again and bites her shoulder, sneaking her hands over Asiyah's waist.

"_Jim,_" Asiyah hisses with a deepening flush.

Jim just slides her cheek along Asiyah as she presses Asiyah's body into hers and whispers, "_Did my heart love 'til now? Forswear its sight. For I never saw true beauty 'til this night._"

Asiyah's eyelashes flutters and Jim grins devilishly as her lips brush the corner of Asiyah's pink mouth.

"Save that for the stage you two!" Gloria yells from across the room.

Asiyah manages to escape Jim's grasp.

Jim pouts at her fun being spoiled and says, "I was building our chemistry!"

"Consider it built!" Gloria replies and herds her out the room and to the stage. "Brace yourself. You're on in five, four, three, two—"

Jim is shoved onto the stage just as the curtains pull open again. She takes a deep breath and lets it all wash over her.

For the next couple of hours all she knows is the bitter depression of rejection, the consuming euphoria of new love, the passion and stubbornness that comes with it, and the tragic heartbreak that spurs on the desire for death.

As the curtain falls, Jim hears the thunderous clapping and cheers from her position on the floor under Asiyah. She smiles and stands, helping Asiyah to her feet as they stand and join hands with the rest of the cast. The curtain lifts and they all bow in tandem.

Gloria is standing off to the side with proud tears in her eyes.

Jim smiles when she spots Eleanora and Bones in the audience. She waves at them and gives them the thumbs-up before she follows the rest of the cast to the backstage area. She changes out of her costume and shares a few brief congratulatory hugs and kisses with her fellow cast mates.

"Good job everyone!" Gloria praises. "And remember. From now till the end of June, we'll be giving performances Sunday, Wednesday, and Saturday nights, every other week. See you then, and again, you done me proud!"

Jim slips away and finds Eleanora and Bones in the lobby area. She's a bit surprised when Eleanora presents her with a bouquet of white roses. "Thank you. You didn't have to do that," she says.

"Oh hush," Eleanora says. "You deserved them. You were amazin' up there. Had me bawlin' my eyes out and everythin', sayin' to myself, '_Oh to be young again_'."

Jim laughs and accepts the kiss that Eleanora gives her on the cheek. She looks over to Bones. "What's the verdict, Doctor?" she asks.

Bones tucks his left hand in the pockets of his slacks as he uses the right to straighten his tie. "Not a fan of Shakespeare, but I reckon you did fine all the same," he remarks with a neutral expression.

Eleanora rolls her eyes. "For God's sake—he was bawlin' along with me," she accuses. "I never seen him so glittery-eyed, nor so invested in the theatrics of this play."

Bones flushes and glares at his mother as though she has betrayed him.

Jim hides her smile in her bouquet of roses.

"Well come on," Eleanora says, steering Jim towards the exits. "Let my softhearted boy and I treat you to a meal."

They go to Mom and Pop's Diner and get served by Dixie, who is, by this point, swelling around the stomach with child. They take a booth by a window because Jim favors doing such, and she sits on the inside with Eleanora to her immediate right while Bones settles across from them.

Jim and Eleanora order a turkey burger with sweet potato fries while Bones is content to order the house chili.

Midway through their meal, Jim decides to bring up a topic she's been meaning to. Well—two topics. She says, "So Bones, have you got any calls yet about those lessons?"

Bones snorts. "I've got more people askin' after me than I know what to do with. I should have known that was your doin'. I've got about seven different kids booked for lessons this weekend." He doesn't sound upset or thrilled, so Jim pegs it down as a win or something close to it. He does still look unsure about the whole situation.

"Don't give me all the credit," Jim says after a brief swallow of fries. "Florence helped. Like a lot. You've met her right? She said she took you out for lunch so you two can get comfortable with each other."

Bones shoves a spoonful of chili in his mouth and lifts a brow as his reply.

"If its any consolation, she said you two hit it off," Jim offers as she jams a few more fries in her mouth.

Bones snorts and pulls his glass of iced tea close. "She's somethin' alright," he states quietly, more to himself than to Jim.

"Well I think its good you're taken up these lessons," Eleanora chimes, putting her bid into the conversation. "It'll be good for you to see the outside of those clinic walls more often."

"Here, here," Jim adds and winks at Bones when he sends them both a flat look. She goes on to say, "So what's this I hear about debutante balls?" Eleanora and Bones share a look that Jim certainly does not miss. "What? Am I missing something?"

"Who told you about them?" Eleanora asks instead.

"Mayor Treadway. Made the suggestion that I should try it. Get you to sponsor me and—_why do you two keep looking like that—_seriously, what am I missing?"

Bones chuckles amusedly down at his bowl as he adds more crackers.

Jim frowns.

Eleanora explains, "Don't let that old peacock, Mayor Treadway, fool you. Those darlin' debutante balls are just catfights in disguise of glitzy gowns, big hair, and shallow pageantry displays. I wouldn't recommend it."

"Not even if I ask you to sponsor me?" Jim presses, just to see what she'll say and what she thinks.

Eleanora does something unexpected. Her face goes soft and her eyes fill up with the kind of warmth Jim's only seen her direct towards Bones. But she also looks very sad. She says, "It's no small thing you ask, Jamie." She covers Jim's hand with hers. "Debutante balls are significant to mothers and daughters, and they focus a lot on those bonds—it's part of the whole presentation. Forgive me, but—I just wouldn't think you'd care to take me on as that type of figure."

Jim suddenly understands. Eleanora is trying to tread carefully in regards to Jim's comfort zone. She always knew Eleanora was perceptive woman, and this just proves it. "Oh, well," she says and really takes the time to think about it. "I wouldn't, you know, mind. Not really. You—I mean, it's fine. I'd be open to trying and—but that's only if you want to. I just thought it'd be interesting, um, something to try."

Eleanora smiles carefully. "I'd be honored to help," she says, sounding intensely genuine.

Bones flicks his hazel eyes between them with that indecipherable expression of his.

Jim wonders about what he might be thinking. She doesn't really know how to ask and so she doesn't. She just goes back to eating what's left of her burger. She stays quiet as Bones and Eleanora argue over the finer points of Jim's performance, even comparing her to today's actors and actresses. She's flattered to say the least, but more amused than anything.

Eventually they finish their meals and forgo dessert in favor of eating the caramel cake that Bones, surprisingly, made.

Jim has a sneaking suspicion that Bones is just as good in the kitchen as his mother is. When they make it home and Jim cuts an obnoxious piece of cake Bones chastises her for, she takes one bite and she just knows.

Bones is an undercover chef genius.

Eleanora takes her slice up to her room and bids them a goodnight.

Bones and Jim settle out on the back porch and sit on the middle of the steps under the full moon.

"So what else don't I know about you?" Jim questions but she's pretty sure it comes out muffled because she has so much cake jammed in her mouth. Her cheeks are puffed out with it.

Bones makes a disapproving face but he also looks like he wants to laugh. He hands her a napkin instead with a vaguely fond expression. "I'm gonna pretend what you said was actual words," he decides, watching her. "You look like a chipmunk, just so you know."

Jim aims a sunny smile his way, puffy cheeks and all.

Bones lips twitch and eventually curl. He wouldn't admit to it, but Jim thinks he's secretly pleased that she's taken by his baking prowess.

Jim swallows. "I was _attempting _to say that I think you're hiding more skills under that scowl of yours."

Bones snorts and starts forking his way through his own piece of cake. "I got nothin' to hide, Kid. You just ain't been askin' the right questions," he counters.

Jim considers that with a heavy moment of silence. She waits until Bones forks another bite of cake in his mouth before she asks, "Is it true you used to do gymnastics?"

Bones chokes violently and goes beet red as he hits at his chest while trying to hack up the bite of cake that's obstructing his windpipe.

Jim just watches him with an innocent expression as she takes another bite of her cake.

"How the hell did you—_Jesus that burns_—who told you about that?" Bones rasps with watery eyes. His flush doesn't look like it's dying anytime soon.

"I consulted a soothsayer," Jim lies and laughs when Bones glares at her. "Okay. Your mom keeps a stack of photo albums in a box under her bed. I flipped through it when I was watching some film adaptation with her the other night. I saw the pictures of your competitions. I have to say, those were some tasteful leotards."

Bones swears colorfully under his breath as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

Jim chuckles and scrapes up the last few threads of cake and frosting into her mouth before she licks her fork clean.

A warm breeze coils around them and dances through the field of trees, making the leaves shake in a noisy whisper.

Jim tugs off her cowboy boots and sets them in a neat row on the steps.

"And what about you?" Bones asks when he finishes. He wipes his mouth clean with a napkin.

Jim stands and goes to the last step, tucking her hands in the back pockets of her cutoff shorts and begins pacing the length of that wooden step. She says, "What about me?"

Bones follows her movements with his eyes. "Well it's only fair you tell me a bit about yourself since you know about my short affair with gymnastics," he elaborates.

Jim continues to pace. "Not much to tell. I'm a bore," she lies.

"Pull the other, Kid, cause I ain't buyin' that for a second," Bones huffs knowingly. "Why're you so against me knowin' anythin' about you?"

"What makes you think you're so special? Maybe I just don't want anyone to know anything about me," Jim explains and it is partially true. No one needs to know the sordid details about her or her less than amicable past. "And why do you want to know anything about me anyway."

"No need to get defensive," Bones grumbles crankily. His mood seems to be souring, just like the expression on his face. "That's what people do, don't they? Interact—talk. Get to know each other."

Jim spins on her foot to face him as she ducks her head to look at him from under her lashes with a thoughtful expression. "You trying to be my friend, Bones?" she questions with a cynical grin.

Bones blinks and furrows his brow in confusion like he doesn't understand why she would even ask such an obvious question. "I would—if you'd let me," he states with an honest frown.

Jim lifts her head and takes a step back on one foot in surprise. Or maybe she shouldn't be surprised. Why is she surprised?

It must show on her face because Bones rolls his eyes with an amused scoff. "Honestly, Kid. I'm not that prickly am I?" he asks in good humor.

Jim smiles faintly before it slips away. This is a little strange for her. Outside of Eleanora, Bones is the only other person who is genuinely interested in getting to know her. She scrambles to cover her long gap of silence. "I, um, I used to go around, collecting strays and taking them to the animal shelters," she admits and feels a bit exposed for it.

Bones lifts both his eyebrows but he doesn't look particularly shocked. "And you were how old? You could have contracted—"

Jim can tell he's gearing up for some kind of lecture so she waves her hands frantically to distract him and explains, "I know! I never said it was the smartest thing I ever did. I was a little over eight and at the time I was a charitable kid with optimistic views and I just thought it was awful they were alone and had to survive on their own. I could kind of relate and so I wanted to give them a chance at something better."

Bones grows quiet. He appears to be deciding something. He finally says, "I wasn't bein' judgmental. Hell, I'm the reason we've got so many horses in that stable. I couldn't ever be content with just one."

Jim smiles. "I'm not an animal lover though, so don't make that mistake."

"I think you always mean the opposite when you say things like that," Bones quietly decides with a thoughtful frown.

Jim just shrugs and doesn't bother to confirm how accurate he is. "Come take a walk with me and let's go back to the basics. Like, um, what's your favorite color? Mine is brown," she says as she walks backwards towards the trees.

Bones stands and descends the steps to follow. He says, "I don't have one."

"How can you not have one?"

"Simple. I just don't."

Jim rolls her eyes as they carry on their moonlight stroll through the apple trees. "Well then, how about this—why'd you want to be a doctor?"

Bones gives a vague explanation at first before he really opens up about it. Then he talks about his father, something that neither his mother nor him seem to do. When Bones gets around to explain why, and also how his father died, she understands. He talks about his diminishing marriage and his never-ending love for his daughter Joanna.

Jim doesn't know how they even get to the point where they're standing on the edge of the McCoy property, and she's telling him about her shitty childhood. She still leaves a lot out (Tarsus and her absentee mother), but Jim gets the sense that Bones knows and he understands.

"Wait, you almost ran off to Starfleet?" Jim says as they sit side by side under the stars between two trees, leaning back on their elbows. "Seriously, what?"

"Man named Pike tried to recruit me. I almost listened to him. I was out there that day, you know, on the shuttle headed to San Francisco on that shipyard in Riverside," Bones explains as he looks out into the fields of tall swaying wheat. "I was there, drunk off my ass and bitter. I sat in that shuttle and right before take off I changed my mind and circled back here. Couldn't really commit to it—didn't have a reason to."

Jim shakes her head in amazement as she stares at the side of his face. "Shit, Bones. Now I'm really freaking out because _I _was supposed to be on that shuttle. Pike tried to recruit me too."

Bones turns his head and looks at her. His right brow slowly escalates.

"No, I'm being so for real right now. I was probably going to sit next to you or something," Jim says as her eyes glaze over with the thought. "God, can you imagine that? Us meeting that way?" She could, and she wonders if she could have convinced him to stay. She shakes the thought away and feels guilty for it. He does have a family he would have been leaving behind after all.

Bones gaze burns into her temple and he seems to be considering that fact. He looks away and mutters, "Might not've been so bad then."

Jim flushes and tries not reading into it. Reading into it would be very dangerous. "Funny how the universe works. But I could never imagine you in space," she says, shifting the conversation to safer grounds.

"Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence," Bones responds in kind.

Jim rolls her eyes. "Okay, you don't have to be dramatic about it. I actually wouldn't mind going up there. Just to see what I'd find."

"You can't be content to just sit still can you?" Bones huffs.

"Nope." Jim smiles and it's all teeth and charm. "So you better enjoy me while you still can. Who knows when I'll be kicking up the dust and moving along?"

Bones doesn't seem too fond of the idea of Jim leaving and his deep frown expresses that. "You could stay," he quietly suggests and meets her gaze.

Jim snorts and shakes her head. "No I couldn't. This place isn't really my cup of tea."

"What's wrong with here?" Bones asks, and Jim could swear he sounds offended.

"Nothing," Jim says in a soothing tone as Bones sits up with a scowl. She sits up too. "Really—Hudson Hill is a jewel. I just—I don't think it's my kind of—come on, Bones. You can't say you're surprised."

Bones glares at the wheat fields. "I can't say why I'm ever surprised," is his terse reply. He rips a bit of grass with his fingers before he exhales slowly. "You could stay," he insists.

"I could stay," Jim agrees. "I just don't think I will. But I guess you never know."

Bones says nothing. His shoulders are sitting in a tense line, his jaw is clenched and his frown is slowly becoming more and more prominent the deeper he winds himself in his thoughts.

Jim makes a mental note to avoid this line of conversation at all costs in the future. She hates when Bones gets moody and quiet. She says, "Tell me about Joanna."

Bones blinks and his eyebrows push together. He doesn't quite look at Jim but he also doesn't seem to be avoiding her gaze either. He scratches the side of his jaw and says, "She's nothin' like me or her mother. She's her own person." A smile starts to creep its way on his lips. "She likes violins a lot. Jocelyn used to play to her all while she was pregnant with her. She was as active in the womb as she is now, and the only way Joyce could calm her down is by playin'."

"Jocelyn can play the violin?" Jim asks with a curious frown. "I—that's like—I don't know. I imagined she was more of a cello person."

Bones shakes his head. "She's always been playin' for as long as I've known her. She used to have concerts when we were teenagers. Everyone came out to see." His face turns wistful and Jim knows he's remembering the woman he used to love.

Jim looks away and threads her fingers through the grass while she tries to cut down the surge of envy that attempts to rise up.

"Don't ever let Joanna talk you into playing Jenga," Bones warns softly. "Jo'll play game after game until she falls asleep on her feet." He smiles briefly. "Her favorite fruit's mangos. She refuses to eat anything that's yellow and I can't even explain why. She's stubborn, but I figure she gets that from me. That determination, however—she gets that honest from Joyce. She also has this thing when she gets read to, where she likes to start in the middle of the book and work her way backwards before going forward again."

Jim feels her mouth quirk again.

"She's allergic to strawberries and shrimp," Bones goes on to say.

"What a coincidence, so am I," Jim states. "I knew I felt a kindred spirit in her."

Bones snorts. "Only unlike you, she wouldn't press her luck by tryin' to eat them anyway," he points out and tosses her a knowing look.

Jim flashes a disarming grin in reply.

Bones flicks his gaze away and says, "When she was born, she had a mop of brown hair and weighed in at about 2800 grams."

"Did you deliver her?"

"Not for the better lack of tryin'. Joyce wouldn't let me. She refused," Bones replies with a mere shrug.

"Can't blame her."

Bones whirls his gaze on her and he bristles. "And just what do you mean by that?"

"I mean what I mean. I don't blame her. Have you met you? I can only imagine how you would've been while trying to bring your child into this world."

"There'd be no _tryin' _about it," Bones snaps, face riddled with an angry scowl. "I'm not incompetent."

"No you're not," Jim agrees calmly. "But if it were me, I'd want you right next to me, holding my hand like you're my husband. Not down at my danger zone treating me just like any other patient. Having a kid is a big deal, not that I'd know, but it's not too hard to imagine."

Bones reddens curiously before it washes away into something more attentively mindful. "Guess I can concede to the point when you put it like that," he mutters.

Jim folds her legs under her and straightens out the line of her spine. "Yeah, well, I know some things," she supposes. "Now, tell me more about Ms. Joanna."

Bones does.

888

Mayor Treadway makes a house call in the middle of June when Bones is busy giving his last horseback riding lesson of the day and Eleanora's away because she's sorting out some business in town at the post office.

This leaves Jim to be the one to awkwardly invite the grinning mayor inside. She's not used to playing host so she's isn't quite sure of what the protocol is for this type of thing. She wings it.

"Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?" Jim offers as she yanks on the hem of her floral dress.

Mayor Treadway sits down on the couch facing away from the windows and towards the foyer. "Cup of lemonade will do just fine if you have any. Iced tea if you don't," he replies and runs his eyes over her unabashedly.

Jim nods tightly and tucks away in the kitchen. She grabs a glass and the pitcher of homemade iced tea from the fridge. She pours a glass and tries to work out just why he's here.

Mayor Treadway is leaning back against the back of the couch with his arms spread out against it and his legs crossed. "Thank you," he says as he leans forward and accepts the glass.

Jim sits across from him and watches him drink it. "I'm sorry to say that Eleanora and Leonard aren't here right now. Did you want me to pass on a message?"

Mayor Treadway just hums before he snags a coaster to set his glass on. He leans back and pins Jim with his green eyes. "I know it's no secret in this house that Leonard and Jocelyn plan on finalizing their divorce tomorrow," he says. "I'm here to see if I can't persuade my son-in-law to some different alternative."

"With all due respect, sir," Jim begins, a bit affronted on Bones's behalf. "What they decide about their marriage is between them, wouldn't you say?"

Mayor Treadway aims a pristine smile her way and it's both cold and threatening. "With all due respect to yourself, Ms. Kirk—this is family matter and the last time I checked you had neither a McCoy nor a Treadway tacked to your name," he curtly clarifies. "Now don't get me wrong. I've seen the way you and Leonard get on. It's rather sweet—like a brother and his little sister." His grin is glaring. "And I can see you have some sway with him."

Jim's hands curl into fists on her lap as she fights to maintain a neutral expression.

"I'll tell you somethin' you may not know," Mayor Treadway drawls as he leans forward, like he's doing Jim a favor. "My daughter is expectin' her second child."

Jim quietly inhales sharply.

Mayor Treadway grins. "So you can see why I'm so adamant to stop this separation. My daughter is strong, but I'd die a thousand deaths before I let some backcountry boy who pays more attention to his horses than he does his own family walk out on her and leave her to fend for herself with two children." His grin fades and his expression becomes as severe as his tone. "And since my daughter was foolish enough to agree to a pre-nup—well that's not goin' to leave her with much, now is it? So maybe, Ms. Kirk, we can help each other. I can talk until I'm blue in the face at him and he's stubborn enough to dig his heels in the ground and not let up. That's fine—it's somethin' I always like about him. But you—oh, you." He smiles sharply again. "You've got that unflappable charm about you, don't ya girl? You can flutter those pretty blues and he'd put a knife in his own gut if you asked him to."

Jim stares angrily at him. "I don't think—"

"I'm not askin' you to think!" Mayor Treadway snaps.

Jim flinches and presses her lips together, trying not to tremble. He reminds her too much of Kodos and that is fucking with her calm.

Mayor Treadway runs his hand down his tie in an attempt to reign in his temper. "Pardon," he bites out tersely, before continuing, "You do this for me, Ms. Kirk, and—well I don't ever soon forget a debt." His expression clears and he straightens just as the sound of the back porch door creaks open and slaps shut.

Bones rounds the corner from the kitchen and pauses beside the stairs when he notices Jim and Mayor Treadway. He's wear dark jean and a black t-shirt (both are streaked with some dirt). He frowns and flicks his gaze to Jim.

Jim tries her best to mask her expression of sullen outrage. She's not sure if she's successful when Bones steps in her line of sight with tense shoulders and suspicion in his hazel eyes as he casts them towards Mayor Treadway.

"Mr. Treadway," Bones greets and accepts the hand offered to him when Mayor Treadway stands. "What brings you by?"

"I thought I'd stop in," Mayor Treadway lies.

Bones doesn't look like he buys it. He moves to sit by Jim and h'se close enough that their shoulders and legs touch. His silent way of assuring himself that she's fine.

Mayor Treadway raises an eyebrow as he pointedly stares at the lack of space between them.

Bones refuses to move and he looks at Mayor Treadway expectantly. "Won't you sit?" he suggests and spreads his arms along the back of the couch behind Jim.

Jim can feel his arm brushing the back of her neck and it's comforting to say the least. She feels less threatened and cornered with Bones here.

Mayor Treadway's expression pinches but he sits down across from them. "I won't beat around the bush here," he begins with a somber expression. "I get that you and Joyce are plannin' to make the separation official tomorrow."

Bones face becomes closed and he says nothing.

"I just want you to think long and hard about what you're doin', son," Mayor Treadway lightly warns.

"I've done nothin' but think about it," Bones says.

"I just don't want you to do anythin' you'll regret," Mayor Treadway insists. "Think of Joanna."

Bones bristles. "Spare me the lecture," he brusquely retorts. "Jocelyn and I have both considered every avenue while keepin' Joanna at the forefront of our minds."

Mayor Treadway frowns. "I can see I'm upsettin' you. I apologize. I'm not gonna argue with you about this." He stands. "I've said what I came to say. I'll leave the rest in God's hands. You have a good day, Leonard." He glances briefly to Jim and his lips curl. "Ms. Kirk," he murmurs. "I'll be seein' you, I'm sure."

Jim doesn't respond as she looks away and listens as Bones walks him to the door. She exhales and flexes her fingers.

Bones returns and he sits directly in front of her on the edge of the coffee table. "What'd he say to you?" He sounds upset and completely knowing.

Jim smiles sadly. "Eleanora will kill you if she sees you sitting on her table like that," she says, because of course she can never really say what's bothering her. She needs it dragged out of her.

Bones levels Jim with a stern stare. "You ain't gotta spare my feelings," he bites out and his anger doesn't appear to be directed towards her. "Man's got no right to impose on us like that. I'm no fool, Kid. I know he wouldn't think twice before tossin' you at me if he thinks that's what it'll take to get his way."

Jim feels her smile slip and all she feels is cold and sad and alone. "Jocelyn's pregnant." She ducks her gaze. "Did you know?" It's none of her business, really, but—_God_, this is so messed up.

Bones waits until she's looking at him again before he says, "Yes. I know."

Jim exhales as quietly as she can and tries to not feel disappointed or abandoned because she has no right—_no right_. "I know you don't like him and I have my reservations certainly. But maybe he's right, you know," and the words taste bitter in her mouth. "Maybe you two should consider—"

"It ain't mine," Bones interjects before she can really get started. He lets that sink in before he continues, "I know what you're tryin' to do. You can quit it."

Jim blinks at him. "What? But I thought—what?"

Bones smiles in a self-deprecating manner. "The baby she's carryin' ain't mine." He shrugs but he can't hide the glimmer of hurt that betrays his thoughts on the situation. "It kinda became the final nail in the coffin so to speak. Jocelyn thought the situation would be less messy if we got things taken care of as soon as possible. She's happier with someone else and I don't blame her for it. People will talk but—she'll be fine. She's always been fine. I'll be fine."

Jim wants to know who this _someone else _is and she wants to ask a whole bunch of questions but she's just silenced by her undeniable relief and hoping it doesn't show on her face.

"Now tell me what that old coot said," Bones says and gives Jim his undivided attention.

Jim scratches the side of her nose and looks up towards the ceiling with a sigh. "Nothing really. Nothing you haven't already figured out anyway," she mutters.

"Tell me anyway."

Jim catches his eyes and shrugs. "He just wanted me to use my pretty face to convince you not to go through with the divorce," she admits.

"Did he threaten you?"

Jim's mouth fidgets because she wants to smile at the fact that Bones looks ready to go to war for her. "No. But even if he did, I can handle myself just fine," she points out.

"I agree," Bones merely says, expression still somber. "Doesn't mean you should have to."

Jim shrugs again. "Do you think he knows that the baby isn't yours?"

"He'll find out soon enough."

Jim hums thoughtfully as rubs her arm.

Bones studies her for a minute longer before he sighs and stands. "Momma's not comin' back tonight. She's run off with one of her gentlemen callers."

Jim smiles. "Good for her."

Bones foregoes commenting. "Come help me make dinner," he says instead as he looks down at her.

Jim scoffs and spreads herself out on the couch, lacing her fingers behind her head as she looks up at him. "That was a funny joke you just made."

"Wasn't a joke."

"Yes it was. I'm not helping you. I can't cook."

"Which is why I'm gonna teach you. The best way to learn is with hands-on experience."

"I'm more for the 'wait till its done and then eat it' method."

"Lazy."

"Truly I am," Jim agrees easily and closes her eyes. "Wake me when it's ready."

Bones sits her up, ignoring her squawking protests, before he tosses her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carries her into the kitchen.

"You put me down right now! This is nonconsensual cooking! I'll press charges!"

"With who? The cooking police? Stop bein' such a baby," Bones grumbles and sets her down in front of the fridge. "Grab two sticks of butter from the bottom drawer. I'm teachin' you how to make homemade hot wings from scratch and that's the end of it."

Jim pouts but she does as she told, only because she likes when Bones is bossy. She grabs everything he tells her to and they move around each other like orbiting planets that comes close to drifting towards each other but never quite make that final touch.

Bones is patient in his explanations and he refuses to do any of the physical work because he believes that Jim is benefiting more from doing it herself than from watching him. The only thing he does really do is peel the potatoes for the fries but he makes Jim deep-fry them.

Jim mixes the buffalo sauce the way he tells her to as he keeps an eye on the fries and she complains that her arm is getting tired from all the stirring.

"Wimp," is Bones's goading reply. He lifts a challenging brow at her as he spoons out all the steak-cut fries that are floating to the top of the crackling oil.

Jim glares at him but she does stop complaining, if only to prove that she's no wimp.

Once Bones has the fries all sorted, he pulls free the two pans of chicken wings from the oven and set them on top. Grabbing a dressing brush, he eyes the bowl she's working on before he says, "You can start covering the wings with that sauce. Try to go light at first—it'll take about three coats but if you over shoot it then you won't have enough to go over them all."

"Kay," Jim murmurs and takes the brush from him, dipping the white hairs of it in the bowl before she carefully blankets each wing with the red sauce. "So I've been reading this book of poetry," she says, dividing her attention. "And one of the poems really kinda stuck with me."

Bones just grunts and watches her hands.

"It was a guy and I think he was talking about this woman he loved, but the way he put it was so—I don't know," Jim goes on to say. She lifts her thumb and sucks a bit of the sauce off as she dunks the brush in the sauce again to apply the second coat. "I think I can still remember it line from line. It starts, '_You opened your legs to me and it was like watching an oyster unfold. When I said that I thought I was in love with you, that's just what it was. A thought. But I never followed the tendrils down or tried to reason the network of future possibilities it wove in my mind. We were always tangent, but like that oyster, you were deep and wet. I found no pearl, but don't you ever assume you tricked me into thinking you had none. I just wasn't the one you were waiting to give it to. We parted ways with our eyes dry.'_ I mean, don't get me wrong, it gives you a lot to think about. But I don't know. I feel like I'm missing something." She finishes the last coat before she looks up at Bones. "You're a guy."

Bones snorts as his lips curl in amusement. "Am I?" he retorts in a sarcastic drawl. He takes the bowl and the brush and delivers it to the sink. He starts rinsing it out. "I'm guessin' you want to see what I make of it?"

"It might help me understand," Jim says before she sits down at the kitchen table. "So tell me something. Zuhi, Zonta, Asiyah, Dixie and I have started this little book club and I want to have something profound to say during our next meeting."

Bones dries off his hands before he grabs two plates. "Oyster's are considered to be an aphrodisiac," he points out as he puts a handful of fries and wings on both of their plates. He sets hers before her while he settles down across from her.

"True. I considered that too. But like, that's not what I'm confused about. I totally get, you know—" She pauses and points down at herself. "—the power of the 'V'."

Bones eyebrows rise as he jams a few fries in his mouth and he looks entirely too amused.

"What I'm saying is," Jim continues as she picks up a chicken wing and starts gesturing with it. "That the whole, '_I think I'm in love with you'._ What does that even mean? To think you're in love with someone? Love is supposed to be a feeling, right? A knowing? An unquestionable intuition. But he says he thinks."

"Lots of people think about love. Thinkin' is different than feelin'," Bones supposes as he bites into a wing. "Sounds like he was considerin' a future with her but it didn't really pan out with the real thing."

Jim perks up just as she jams a few fries in her mouth, still holding that one chicken wing with her other hand. "Oh my God. Yes. _That's _it. It's like that one movie—500 Days of Summer."

"Never heard of it."

Jim guffaws and swings her chicken wing roughly. "Never saw it? Okay, we are so correcting that tonight," she decides.

Bones stares at her and it looks like he's fighting back a smile. "You've got a bit of sauce…" He makes a gesture to his face.

Jim plays dumb. "Where?" She frowns and presses her chicken wing completely against her cheek. "Here?"

Bones starts to laughs and looks at her like he can't believe she just did that. She decides to roll with it.

"Or maybe here?" Jim presses the wing to the other cheek. "Nah—I'm definitely feeling some up here." She swipes the wing across her forehead and laughs when Bones leans out of his chair and makes a grab for it. She presses her clean hand to his chest. "Wait, wait, wait! I'm trying to get it," she says, smearing it across her chin.

"You're makin' it worst," Bones protests but he's laughing with her. "You're worse than Joanna!"

Jim tries to look offended, but that's hard to do when you have buffalo sauce smeared all across your face like a lunatic.

Bones swears under his breath as he grabs a napkin, wets it, and rounds the table to her.

Jim tries to squirm away. "No, let me keep it. I heard it's good for the skin."

"You're ridiculous, you kno—_hold still_." Bones tangles his left hand in the hair of her ponytail and angles her face up. He clucks his tongue disapprovingly as he begins to carefully rid her skin of the red sauce.

Jim's nice enough not to squirm, but that's probably because she's too busy trying to chase the napkin in his hand with her tongue.

Bones mouth fidgets between a scowl and grin as he glares at her for it. "Stop that."

"I didn't do nothin'," Jim drawls in her best Georgian accent.

Bones huffs amusedly and dabs her forehead clean.

Jim traces her blue eyes over his face and takes in how the expression of concentration on his face suits his comely features well. She thinks about how Jocelyn is making a big mistake to let a man like Bones slip through her fingers. He's incredible and if Jim could—

She cuts the thought out of her mind viciously, but it creeps back in. She can't help but to wonder what it would be like to have a good guy like him. She's used to giving herself to people who could care less about what kind of brain is lurking behind her eyes but rather of what she's got between her legs. Bones though, he cares and he's not fooled by the masks she tries to wear.

It's not fair, Jim thinks. Why can't she deserve someone like him?

Bones swabs the napkin under her bottom lip and over her chin. "There," he rumbles. "Can't believe you graduated high school as early as you did with your fool behavior."

Jim grins and she knows she's about to do something stupid. She can feel it coming. "I probably could have cleaned my own face, you know," she points out.

Bones fingers twitch in her hair and he turns an interesting light shade of pink.

"But thanks anyway," Jim adds and holds his gaze as she wraps her small fingers around his large wrist. Her grin gets mischievous and some dangerous compulsion takes her over. "Is this what you'd call second base around here? You clean a girl's face and put your hand in her hair? How forward of you, Dr. McCoy."

Bones flushes and he swallows down whatever it is he knows he should be saying in that moment. That only encourages her to stand and press herself against the hard line of his body.

"You know normally," Jim says as she ducks her gaze and loosens her grip on his wrist and slides her fingers slowly down his arm as she looks up at him from under her lashes. "I make it my priority to break bones when someone touches my hair. But I don't know. I guess there's something about you," she suppose as her fingers slide over his shoulder and to the back of his neck where she tangles her fingers in the shorthairs.

_Be mine_, she thinks desperately, scared that she'll chase him away because of her own stupidity. _Just for a little while. Belong to me._

"Jim—" Bones hesitates and he must read it in her eyes. "Maybe we oughta just—"

Jim presses her lips to his before he can say anything at all. She feels selfish enough to go for what she wants and right now she doesn't care that he's still technically married. She doesn't care that this could be a disaster waiting to happen. She doesn't care what kind of woman this makes her. She just opens her mouth under his and tangles her fingers in his hair, biting at his lips as his hands drop to her waist. She trembles when he licks his way in her mouth, responding to the kiss with as much fervor she shows and he sucks on her tongue with every bit of thoroughness he does with everything else. He sucks on her tongue like her mouth it belongs to him now, like he's claimed it for himself and he'll be damned if he lets anyone else violate that claim.

Jim pulls away with a gasp and yanks his belt and his fly open. Her hands are shaking but she doesn't care. She kisses him as she unzips his belt. "Come on," she pleads against his mouth. "Come on—_please, _Bones. Just this once—just—"

Bones swallows the rest of her words and picks her up, settling her against his waist. He large hands are curling on the outside of her thighs as he kisses her deeply like he's trying to drink her in.

Jim whines desperately as he presses her back against the refrigerator, making it rattle nosily. She helps him hike up her dress as he presses deeper into the space of her thighs and he adjusts himself. "Oh—_fuck,_" she yelps as he pushes up and sinks inside of her, opening her up like it's he's got every right to do so, like all that she is and has belongs to him. She throws her head back and cries out as he thrusts up and solidifies that claim with a low curse.

Bones pulls her down for a kiss, sucking the quick little whimpers out of her mouth as she clutches his back and holds on for dear life. "Jim," he groans against her mouth. "God—you gorgeous thing—you take it so well, come on—" His thrusts are precise and searching, selfish and giving, and the fridge is rattling against Jim's back.

Jim groans and pants, "_Shit, _Bones—not—not here. You can't fuck me in this kitchen—fuck, _fuck—_God, it'll be all I ever think about every time we're in he—_oh shit, yes—_"

Bones growls and for a moment he seems like he doesn't even care as he angles his hips and wrenches a particularly loud sob from Jim's mouth.

"_Bones—_not here_,_" Jim whines and he swings her around, stumbling towards the steps, but not without spending a good minute fucking her against every wall they collide against.

By the time they reach Jim's bed, Bones falling backwards so she's on top, and she's coming on a choked shout, riding it out over him as her fingers tangle in a painful grip with his. Her hips jerk one final time before she sags against him with a broken stream of moans she breathes against the side of his neck.

Bones hasn't come yet, still hard and desperate inside of her and Jim pulls herself together long enough to swing around so that her back is facing him and she builds herself up again in a nice rhythm (reverse cowgirl—she knew he'd appreciate the irony), working her hips back and forth. He sits up and plasters himself against her back, touching her wherever his hands can reach, and they still have their clothes on and its messy and crazy but she likes it. He presses his wet forehead into the side of her neck as his hips move in tandem with hers, steady hands holding her close and yanking her down into every thrust up.

Jim's sobbing her way into her second orgasm as he shudders with a soft shout, biting down on her right shoulder hard enough that she's riding the waves between pleasure and pain. He circles his hips and stops when Jim begs him to—she's too sensitive by this point and she knows she can't take anymore. She eases off of him and collapses on her side, kicking her purple monkey on the floor as he falls on his back beside her.

Jim blinks up at the ceiling for a long moment. She turns her head and she stares at him, and before she can help it, she laughs.

Bones is using his fingers to comb his hair off of his wet forehead when he swings his gaze over to her with a frown. "What's funny?" he asks in a deep rasp. If he didn't sound like pure whiskey-laced sex before he certainly does now. He sits up and tugs his shirt over his head.

Jim tries not to ogle him as she explains, "We just fucked. Twice. Because I rubbed a piece of chicken around my face." She starts laughing again and covering her face with her hands.

Bones snorts before he starts chuckling too, seeing the utter ridiculousness of it as well.

"Oh my God," Jim mutters into her hands. "We just had sex." Her laughter dies as it all hits her. "I just had sex with a very married man." She sits up. "Shit. I am so going to hell."

"Hey, hey—" Bones reaches out and grabs her wrist, tugging her close so that she's settled against his side. "Last I checked, this very married man willingly participated. Twice."

Jim shouldn't be blushing but she is. Her emotions are weird like that.

"Way I see it—if you're goin' to hell then I'm hitchin' my wagon to yours and comin' right along with you."

"Don't coddle me."

Bones rolls his eyes. "I'm not. I'm just sayin' you don't have to feel guilty." He continues, "Sure we probably could've handled this better but we didn't do anythin' wrong. I may have a ring on my finger but Joyce and I haven't been _married _for quite some time."

Jim frowns but the knot of guilt trying to tighten in her gut loosens. "Well," she says. "I mean I could have probably waited at least two weeks after your divorce before trying to jump you. I could have done it right, you know? Baked you a pie and took you out for another moonlit stroll. I bet I could've even talked Mrs. Gloria into playing chaperone for us."

Bones makes a face before he leans forward and bites her bottom lip. "Never say that woman's name while I'm in bed with you—_Jesus, _I'd never get it up," he complains.

Jim throws her head back and laughs. "Oh my God, I can't believe you just said that."

Bones shrugs and lies back, looking as fucked out as Jim feels.

Jim slides on top of him and lays her head on his chest as her thighs press against the sharp juts of his hips. "Bones," she says as she feels his breathing start to even out. "I—I wouldn't hold it against you if you didn't want this to mean anything."

"Go to sleep, Jim," Bones simply says.

"I'm serious," Jim insists and she can feel his gaze boring into the top of her head. "I don't do relationships anyway, so—" She stops suddenly and doesn't know what she's trying to say.

Bones is quiet for a long moment before he cups his hand over the back of her neck. "We'll talk about it later," he promises. "Sleep."

Jim closes her eyes.

888

**Author's Note: **_Um. So. I totally didn't see that coming either. Please tell me how shocked you are—review, comment, criticize. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Ease those legs open for me darlin'—bit wider, come on—there you go—"

Jim groans, fingers grabbing the pillow under her head for purchase as the world swims around her. Bones has put a new definition to the term 'early riser' and he's doing this a bit underhandedly because she knows that he knows she doesn't function well in the morning. When he said they were going to talk, Jim didn't exactly have this in mind. Not that she was complaining—entirely—at all.

It's too early to be considered dawn and Jim is still incredibly tired but way too turned on to fall back asleep, not with Bones already inside of her, steady hands tilting her hips up as he bears down. His silhouette is only somewhat visible in the darkness of the room, the early morning light peeking through in thin sheets between the spaces of her closed blinds and heavy curtains.

Jim doesn't know what time it is. She doesn't really care to know because all she can pay attention to is the naked press of their skin and how the wild strands of Bones's hair feels soft as it brushes her chin as he dips his head to kiss her collarbone and she wishes she could see him, every inch of him, but something about not being able to only enhances the intimacy.

Jim shudders when his lips brush the twitching lashes of her left eye and he blows gently over it. She bites down on her bottom lip as his hand slides down to the crook of her right knee before he lifts it and presses it against his chest. She gasps breathlessly when this new position allows him to change the angle of his thrusts.

"That's it—let me hear you, Jim—come on—say my name."

"Fuck off," Jim laughs (moans). He's got some nerve trying to boss her around, never mind the fact that it makes her twitch and fills her with hungry curiosity. She wonders how far she can push him, because she's not the type to submit, she doesn't much like it, never liked it. She always had a tendency to bring her rebellious nature in the bedroom. She's curious to know how he'll respond to this. "Tell you what," she pants and lifts her hips to meet his next thrust. A sheen of sweet breaks out across her body. "I'll be nice if you say _mine_."

Bones leans up and grips the headboard to anchor a particularly sharp thrust he gives, chuckling deeply at Jim's answering cry. "You're a brat," he says before he dips down and sweeps her up into a biting kiss with teeth and tongue and _definite_ possessiveness.

Jim inhales sharply, eyes squeezing shut as her body thrums with his focused attention. She turns her head away and dodges his lips because she feels herself giving in to it. "_I'm _not a," she pauses to swallow down a groan, "not a brat. You—" She cries out when he shifts his hips just _so_. But then the bastard slows down completely, like he has all the time in the world. "Fucking fucker—go _faster—_"

"Faster?" Bones rumbles against her left ear. "Why should I?" he challenges. "You won't say my name."

"_Ugh, _you're impossi—_fuck—_" Of course he waits until she tries to talk back to him before he speeds up and of course he slows down when she's nice and breathless and on the verge of coming. She whimpers and circles her hips into him. "I hate you," she swears.

"Liar, liar," Bones whispers, dipping his tongue in her ear in the most _filthy _manner she didn't even know he was capable of, and as his tongue retreats, he blows gently after it.

Jim shivers again as her hips jump and her nails starting scratching down his back when he picks up the pace again. God, it's all so—he feels so—it's just so—_yes, yes, yes—**no**._ She gives a frustrated groan when he slows down and she feels him press his smirk against her temple. He punctuates this small victory with another concentrated thrust, still taking his time, still drawing all the sounds he can get out of her quivering mouth.

Jim's shaking, thighs trembling where she's squeezing his waist between them and her nails bite crescents into his back. This isn't working. She doesn't like this. She needs to set the pace because she's so close and he wont let her come, the fucker. She whines a little when he slows down even a fraction more. "Let me get on top," she groans (pleads) and she shifts her hips up as if to tip him over.

Bones bears down on her and swivels his hips just to hear her cry out again. "No."

"_Yes_," Jim hisses and tries to tip him over again but he wont let up. "_C'mon_, Bones."

"Already let you."

"When?" Jim growls but she's too distracted by the way he's kissing down her neck and to her chest.

"Yesterday. Twice, if I recall," Bones says and drags his tongue up her sternum.

"Well let's make it three," Jim whines and jerks her hips in surprise when his mouth closes over her right nipple. She tangles her hands in his hair as he sucks, first gently and then brutally. "_C'mon, _Bones."

"No," Bones says when he pulls back and blows on her wet nipple until it hardens, circling it with his thumb as he rolls his hips into hers.

Jim chokes down a sob and feels so utterly helpless and at his mercy. So naturally, the way she chooses to retaliate is by squeezing herself down on him. She can tell it's working because his pace loses rhythm.

Bones makes a small sound when she clenches around him again. "Stop that."

"Or what?" Jim hisses and clenches again, just to punish him for it. "You said you let me top. But guess what. You didn't _let_ me do anything. You just rolled over for me and you _took _it."

Bones mouth crashes into hers with another biting kiss and he gives a punishing thrust that renders her incoherent long enough for him to say, "Jim, Jim, Jim. You're gonna learn that when I'm inside of you," he pauses long enough to emphasis with another gut-wrenching thrust and Jim chokes down an answering sob, "you don't get to call the shots. You're spoiled but I'm gonna teach you how to behave."

Jim refuses to say that his words turn her on, and that she wants it, anyway that he can give it to her. "Fuck you," she says but the threat is lost when she follows it with a whimper.

"Sorry, darlin'," Bones says and he does not sound sorry at all. "But I'm fucking _you—_good and proper—gonna show how it's supposed to be done." He circles his hips again and picks up the pace and Jim can almost catch the gleam of his teeth as he smirks and does it again. "And you're gonna let me. You're gonna let me stay inside of you for as long as I please. Long enough that you can't take it. Long enough that you won't remember anyone else you've ever had. All day—just—like—this—" He punctuates each word with a thrust.

Jim gasps as her face warms from both pleasure and embarrassment. His words are filthy and ridiculous and— "S-stop calling m-me darling. I'm not—_oh fuck, oh fuck, yes—_"

Bones chuckles darkly again as he presses his lips to the corner of her mouth. "You're not for everyone, Jim—just for me and I'll call you what I like. You just focus on comin'."

Jim is absolutely infuriated by his utter presumptuousness because her body is her own and he can go fuck off but of course the moment she plans to say this to him is the moment that he picks up his pace. She chokes back a scream that he leans down to swallow as his thrusts become wild and quickened and perfect—so fucking perfect—_yes, yes, oh God, yes, yes—_and Jim is coming so hard that she nearly whites out, throat hot and sore from the twisted shout of his name she gives.

Bones breathes out with a sigh when he comes, like all he can do is breathe because there isn't much room to do anything else. He also gets really affectionate, pressing his lips to anything he can reach, her shoulder, her collarbone, her cheeks, her forehead, her ears, just _anywhere_.

Jim feels her face burn hotly and she ducks under his gentle kisses, fussing in weak protests that he just goes right on and ignores. When they separate, she rolls onto her stomach and hugs her pillow close to her chest as her eyelids begin to droop. She feels like she's just ran the best marathon she's ever experienced, and that thought alone makes her lips curl.

Bones settles down on his back beside her and he pushes his wet hair out of his face. He doesn't seem too concerned that he's spread naked across her bed, the morning light hitting the finer contours of his body appealingly.

Jim feels the slow pull of hunger begin to twist in her lower gut again and she bites her bottom lip to keep it at bay. "Anyone ever tell you that you're a little shit in bed?" she asks, although what she really wants is for him to climb on top of her again and make her beg some more, but of course she wont because she _never _says what she really wants. "If they don't, then I'm telling you now. You're a little shit."

"Know what I like, darlin'," Bones simply murmurs. "Nothin' wrong with that."

"Yeah, except for when you try and use your dick to get me to _behave_."

Bones lips curl amusedly as he shifts his gaze over to her. He doesn't respond just then, instead choosing to trace his eyes down the naked line of her back.

Jim is by no means shy, but something about his stare makes her cheeks grow pink.

Bones notices and he slides closer with a deep chuckle as Jim hides her face in the pillow. "You're gorgeous when you blush like that."

Jim lifts her head long enough to glare at him before she ducks down again. She twitches a little when she feels him plaster himself against her back and her fingers tighten in her pillow when she feels how hot and hard he is again. He's warm and heavy above her like this, and it makes liquid heat pool between her legs again but she says nothing.

Bones bites her right shoulder gently as he slides a hand under her, pressing against her pelvis and pushing her hips up as he uses his other hand to guide himself inside of her again.

"_God_," Jim croaks into the pillow. "We're never having that talk are we?"

Bones just chuckles darkly.

Jim groans and bites down on her pillow hard as he opens her up again with the most delicious slide and she thanks Heaven above that someone up there was generous when they made Bones. God, she's so aroused that it's almost bordering painful and she can't really breathe because she pressing her face so deeply into her pillow. She gasps desperately as he begins to rock his hips in the most _sinful _sway.

"So gorgeous like this," Bones murmurs against her shoulder. "You act tough, darlin', but all you really want is someone to make you behave."

Jim whimpers and shakes her head in denial, even as she lifts her hips to give him a better angle.

"You're so good for me," Bones continues as he teethes at her shoulder blade and he sounds so goddamn pleased about it. "Only me. No one else can lay you down, can they, Jim? You won't let them and they won't even try. You're a spoiled brat in bed and you just take what you want because no one can give it to you the way you need. You don't give them a chance to disappoint you."

Jim presses her lips together tightly as she sobs and her hips jerk—she's so close—God, she's so close and she'll come if he keeps talking to her like that.

"But I know you, darlin'. Can't hide from me. I know all you really want to do is be good and obedient. Ain't that right?" Bones rumbles and his breath hitches when she clenches tightly around him in response. His hips start to speed up. "_Jesus, _you do, don't you? You want someone who'll hold you down and take what they want and not think about you."

Jim whines as she slowly tears into her pillowcase and rips holes into the pillow sandwiched between her chest and the bed.

Bones lifts her hips higher and changes the angle of his thrusts in a way that never fails to make Jim writhe and gasp and cry out. "Those idiots didn't understand like I do," he insists. "You ain't made for everyone, Jim, as much as you wanna fool us to believe. Just for that one that can get you—that can understand—that can read what you need right from you without you havin' to say a word."

Jim shakes her head in denial again, even though she can feel her body tightening up with a desperate quiver.

"I swear," Bones breathes and he sounds as utterly wrecked as she feels, his thrusts are getting sporadic and desperate. "I swear that all you really need, all you really _want_ is someone to say 'no' to you."

Jim comes with a hiccupped sob, face wet with sweat and tears. She groans into her pillow as Bones shudders above her with a muffled shout. She feels hot and worn and so unmistakably gratified. It's like she's floating on a sea of endorphins, lazy and inappropriately euphoric. She's had plenty of bed partners but none of them—_none of them—_could ever in anyway match up to Bones. She makes a small sound when he gently withdraws and moves to lie beside her.

"Ruined," Jim mutters.

"What was that?"

Jim lifts her head to fix him with a sleepy-eyed glare. "I said you ruined me, you Georgian bastard," she complains with aggravation she certainly doesn't feel.

Bones snorts. "Excuse me if I don't feel the least bit sorry for it," he murmurs.

If Jim weren't drowning in bone deep satisfaction, she'd probably punch him. She makes a mental note to do it later. "What time do you have to leave to go to court?" she asks because if she doesn't, she'll just convince herself to convince him to never leave.

Bones sighs and leans to the other side of the bed where the nightstand holds his watch. He twists back and stares up at the face of it for a long moment before he says, "Thirty minutes. Enough time."

Jim wants to ask what he means exactly but he's already shifting her around so she's lying on her back and he moves down to settle between her raised knees. For the next fifteen minutes (because the man has an appetite she's never seen) Bones squeezes another three orgasms out of her body from his wicked tongue alone and she has to beg him to stop because she really can't take anymore and he relents, easing off of her with a self-satisfied look she wants to strangle him for but her body feels like putty so she says nothing.

Bones rubs at his face tiredly with one hand. "Don't wanna leave you," he says.

Jim smiles dazedly at the ceiling and pushes it away before he can see.

Bones turns his gaze to her. "I could keep you in this bed for hours and never want for nothin'," he supposes and chuckles when she blushes and glares at him for it. "And about that talk—"

"I don't do relationships," Jim quickly interjects and ignores how it feels like a lie on her tongue. "I don't," she insists, more to herself than to him.

Bones quirks a brow. "Okay."

"No, I really mean it. I—" Jim pauses long enough to realize what he's said. "What? You're—what?"

"I said okay," Bones merely says before he kisses her quick and climbs out of the bed.

Jim is left to just blink at the space he previously occupied. "Okay?" she echoes and refuses to label what she feels as disappointment. "You're okay that I don't want a relationship?" She twists her body so she can watch him locate his clothes.

"I believe that's what the 'okay' implies," Bones grumbles with an amused frown. He looks at her briefly before he picks his pants up. "I meant it just how I said. Okay."

Jim narrows her eyes. "I feel like this is a trick," she mutters and feels a twinge of annoyance when he laughs.

"Jesus, Kid. You always this paranoid or is it just me?" Bones questions with obvious amusement.

Jim refuses to blush because she knows what Bones likes to do when she blushes and _fuck _she's blushing now.

Bones pouty lips curl into a knowing smirk.

"Ugh, just get out of here," Jim moans and ducks under her covers to hide from his gaze. "Go divorce your horrible wife and come back so I can suck you off." She smiles when she hears him stumble and crash into something that sounds like her dresser.

"_Goddamnit—_don't just say somethin' like that when I'm tryin' to leave," Bones complains.

Jim just chuckles and buries herself deeper under her covers. "Run along. Don't wanna be late," she says.

Bones mutters something but the click of her door opening and closing follows it.

Jim sighs and rolls onto her stomach to sleep.

When she wakes up, it's pushing into noon and she feels sticky but no less content. She climbs out of bed to shower and dresses herself in a pair of candy pink overall shorts and a white crochet crop top. She slips on her beige boots before she gets to work with stripping her bed of the sheets. She puts on a fresh set before she takes the soiled bundle down to the basement where the washing machines are.

After she has them loaded up, she wanders back upstairs and into the kitchen to make herself three peanut butter and apple jelly sandwiches she does not feel the least bit guilty or greedy for. She chases it all down with a tall glass of milk and tries not to wonder why Bones hasn't come back yet or what that could mean.

_Ping. Ping. Ping._

Jim frowns and goes to the fridge where a communicator screen is wedged on the right door. She swipes her fingers across and is happily surprised to see that it's Luis. "Tell me something good," she says.

Luis smiles and says, "_Your bike's all fixed and ready to go._"

"That is beautiful news, thank you," Jim praises and feels giddy. "I'll come with my final payment."

"_See you then_," Luis says before his side of the connection fades out.

Jim claps her hands together and goes flying out the front door, down the steps and up the private road to the main road. She's not ashamed to say that she skipped her way to town and to Luis's shop. It's worth it just to see how sleek and new her baby looks. She pays Luis and thanks him profusely for an obvious job well done as he hands her the keys.

Jim straddles her bike and grins when her bike purrs gorgeously under her. She drives out of the shop and back into town where she pulls up to Florence's complex. She treks into the building before she jogs up four flights of steps to make it to Florence's front door and she can hear voices and laughter floating from behind it.

Florence answers on the third knock with a guarded scowl but it fades as she cries, "Blue! My luminescent jewel. We were just talking about you."

"We?" Jim says with a confused frown as Florence ushers her inside. Her question is answered when she sees Zonta lounging upside down on Florence's magazine littered bed while Zuhi sits on the floor beside her. "Are you guys having a party and purposefully excluding me?"

Zonta smiles and waves before she continues to flip through the magazine she's holding above her face.

"We'd never exclude you, even if it was some weird kind of orgy. _Especially _if it was a weird kind of orgy," Zuhi replies and sends her a quick wink before she turns her attention back to the PADD on her lap.

Jim settles into the beanbag chair that has somehow migrated to rest by the coffee table beside the windows. Across from Zonta and Zuhi, she takes a moment to observe them and wonder what this gathering is all about.

Florence clarifies when she says, "So you know how I used to have that thing I did, right Blue? Cause I had things to pay off and whatnot. But only now I don't cause I settled that and my money can be aimed to more profitable ventures, like getting a bigger place."

"I suggested she get a roommate if she was gonna move into a bigger apartment. Sensible thing to do," Zonta adds.

"That's when I said that since you and her were practically bosom buddies, ya'll might wanna think about movin' in together," Zuhi says.

Florence hoists herself up on the edge of the kitchen sink and looks at Jim expectantly. "So how 'bout it, Blue?" she says. "What says you and I get in somewhere together and cohabitate?"

Jim smiles as she grabs the metal slinky off the ground and plays with it. She says, "What? Like pay rent and all that nonsense? Why should I when I'm perfectly holed up where I get free room and board and meals—" _Not to mention **incredible **sex. _"—do you even _know _how to cook?"

Florence bristles but the playful gleam in her eyes ruin it. "That's what you want, Blue? All the razzle and dazzle of home life? You sound like you might be looking for some kind of wife or something. I'll tell you now that I ain't it. As you can see," she pauses to make a wide indicating sweep to her studio apartment. "I'm a pig, but I figure you can deal better with that than anyone else could. But yeah, I can cook."

Jim snorts. "I love you, Florence. I'll deal with your shitty cleaning skills as long as you keep me well fed."

Florence beams. Then she says, "Zuhi's gonna come live with us. She wants to get a house."

"Four bedrooms," Zuhi chimes in a confirming way. "Three for us and then the one for when we want to have company over."

"Makes sense, but nothing too expensive because I'm saving up to ship out," Jim requests. "Can you cook?"

Zuhi smirks and glances up at Jim. "No. But I can _eat_."

Jim flushes at the implications and both Florence and Zuhi laugh at her for it. "I change my mind," she grumbles. "Living with you two is a terrible idea."

"Awe, don't be like that, Blue. We'll be good," Florence promises. "Right, Bobcat?"

"Perfect angels," Zuhi agrees in a distracted fashion. "Sublime behavior."

"Bobcat?" Jim questions as she glances between them. "Zuhi, did you let her nickname you? Didn't I warn you about that?"

Zuhi just shrugs as she swipes her fingers across the screen of the PADD in her lap.

Jim can tell she doesn't mind so she leaves it alone. She continues to play with the slinky in her hand. "When would we be moving in together?"

"Hopefully, if things go well, sometime next week," Florence responds. "Bobcat's been eyeing this place up on the edge of town."

"Well let me know what happens," Jim says. "Can I get some water?"

Florence nods and brings her a bottle of water with a small carton of ice cream before sitting down on the floor between Jim's knees. She munches away at her ice cream happily and asks, "Hey, Bobcat. You got any good gossip for me?"

Zuhi shrugs again as she tucks her dark hair behind her ears before responding, "Leonard is finalizin' his divorce with the Ice Queen." She clucks her tongue and continues, "She's probably bleedin' him dry for all he's got."

Zonta rolls up her magazine and clomps her twin sister over the head with it. "Shut up. You don't know nothin'."

Zuhi shrugs again. "Maybe I'm right. Maybe I'm wrong. But one fact remains is that they're callin' it quits." She looks over at her sister with a mischievous gleam. "What's the matter, Zonnie? I thought you'd be thrilled. Now's your chance to finally—_stop fuckin' hittin' me! _I ain't a fly!"

"Just shut up," Zonta hisses with an embarrassed flush. "I swear, that you and grandpa is the worst human beings to confide in ever about anythin' at all!"

"Oh please," Zuhi scoffs and inches away when Zonta waves her rolled up magazine threateningly. "Everyone and their dog can see the souleatin' crush you got on Leonard. _I'm_ just sayin' that now you don't have an excuse not to ask him out."

"I totally agree," Florence chimes as she licks happily at her spoon. "You find him and you climb that sexy bastard like a tree." She knocks her elbow into Jim's leg. "Back me up here, Blue."

Jim is delicately squeezing her empty water bottle with the lightest amount of pressure. "Yeah," she manages and purposefully avoids thinking about this morning. "Go for it," she croaks and clears her throat quickly when Florence side eyes her.

Zonta doesn't notice her stilted tone and she smiles unsurely. "Ya'll really think I should? I mean, I'm not sayin' I will or anythin' but just—well do you think I should?" she asks.

"Stop actin' like the fourteen year old with braces back in high school," Zuhi reprimands as she swipes her fingers over the PADD in her lap. "Give it a week or two, but ask him out. It never hurts to ask."

Jim bites down on her bottom lip and squirms.

"Yeah," Florence says, looking directly at Jim now. "Girl like you, he'd be crazy to turn down."

Jim purses her lips and Florence grins like she's caught her and Jim sags into the beanbag chair because she knows that Florence has.

"You and I are going to talk later, Blue," Florence says quietly before she turns away. "So I hear Dixie's throwing a baby shower in August," she says listlessly.

Jim sighs quietly, grateful for the subject change.

"She's cuttin' it pretty close," Zuhi remarks. "Isn't she due the beginnin' of September? I mean, I'm no baby expert or nothing', but don't they usually come when you don't expect 'em to?"

"Yeah, but the shower is supposed to be like in the earliest part of August, so I think she's good," Florence says dismissively. "I think we should all bring her diapers. You can never have too many diapers."

From there, the conversation just sails into different rounds of light topics. In the midst of it, when the evening becomes the _late _evening, Zonta and Zuhi stand to leave because their grandpa is sending them furious notifications, warning them not to be late for dinner. Between Jim, Florence and Zuhi, they make a plan to go out together to view the house one final time on Monday before they make any final decisions.

Jim watches Florence walk Zonta and Zuhi out, almost wishing they would stay a bit longer so she can avoid the impending subject that she knows Florence will bring up when they're alone.

As is, Florence returns five minutes later and lands Jim with an expectant look. "Spill. And don't get cute either, Blue. I want all the finer details," she warns.

Jim sighs and she tells her everything, starting from when she first met Bones, all the way up to this morning.

At the end of it all, Florence has both her red eyebrows raised. "Damn, Blue. Don't take this the wrong way, but, you're fucked," she says.

Jim laughs because that's the only response she can give to a statement like that.

"No, no. Hear me out," Florence insists and she guides Jim over to her bed so they can have a heart to heart like real friends or whatever. "I'm thinking you and him, you was meant to find each other, you know? Like fate."

Jim nods politely and says, "That's a nice thought, Florence. But I don't think that's the way things work. I mean coincidences—"

"See. This is why you're fucked," Florence interjects with an impatient huff. "You're blind to the whole circumstance. Your and his meeting must've been written in the stars. I'm fucking sure of it. But you have to be careful about how you let this all play out."

"Sure."

Florence rolls her eyes. "This is some delicate shit, Blue. This guy has had a taste of the married family life, and even though it didn't pan out, he's probably still not put off by it. And by the way things sound, he's gunning for you. For all we know, you're gonna be the next future Mrs. McCoy."

"We're not together," Jim protests. "He can do what he wants and I can do what I want. We just happen to have great sex in the midst of it all."

Florence just shakes her head like she pities Jim.

"_What?_"

"Nothing." Florence cocks her head and her expression turns wistful almost. "Sometimes I forget how young you are."

Jim's mouth shrivels unhappily.

Florence clucks her tongue with a sigh before she stands and treks over to her fridge. She pulls free a small carton of chocolate ice cream, grabs a spoon, walks back over to offer it to Jim and just like that, all is forgiven. Florence sits down and watches Jim eat her way to the bottom of that carton like she's looking for something.

Jim is a bit irritated and she doesn't know why. She thinks maybe Florence might be right. Maybe she is too young. Maybe she's too daft to see what's really going on. Maybe, maybe, maybe. So many maybes. But in all these uncertainties, she doesn't feel any less willing nor any less selfish for wanting to hold onto Bones and this little thing they're starting to have. Consequences be damned.

"You should head home, Blue. Wouldn't want the McCoys to worry," Florence murmurs with a lopsided grin.

Jim licks her lips and nods, handing back the (now empty) carton so Florence can trash it as they walk to the door. Before she leaves, she says, "Someone like Zonta would be better for him, you know?"

Florence assesses her with a careful frown. "If that's what you want to think."

"No, I mean," Jim pauses and tries to find the words she needs. "I'm not the type to make love. I know how to fuck. I like to fuck. I could never promise to be good to him or for him. I mean, I can be good in bed, but I'll be bad for him."

"I hear what your saying, Blue," Florence says patiently. "Go home. Don't overthink it. Let the chips fall where they may."

"Florence, I'm not staying here forever. You know that right?" Jim says, desperate to make her understand.

Florence looks at her for a long moment before she says, "Yeah, I know. You and I, we a lot alike. We're runners."

Jim tries not to let her frustration show. "I'm not _running_."

"Yeah?" Florence challenges. "What brought you out this way in the first place?"

Jim curls her hands into fists and purses her lips.

"Like I said. I know you, Blue. You and me, we kindred," Florence says with a sad smile. "Just like you and Len are. So don't think for one second that he'll let you run off without following you. Kindred people are attracted to one another and somehow we always find our way to each other."

Jim says nothing.

Florence smiles. "Go home, Blue. I'll see you Monday, kay?"

Jim still doesn't say anything.

Florence waves before she shuts her door.

Jim stares at the chipped wood before she makes her way down and out the complex. She straddles her bike, revs the engine and rides off. She makes it back to the house in little to no time and she tries to think nothing at all when she sees Eleanora's black pickup truck parked between Bones's mustang and a silver Mercedes. She parks behind the three cars before she makes her way up the porch steps and to the front door, which is left open. She hears voices in the kitchen and smells an enticing aroma of food.

Eleanora is serving a casserole (honeyed baked beans and chopped whiskey-soaked dogs under a layer of buttered cornbread) with Jocelyn, Joanna, and Bones sitting at the table.

Jim feels slightly awkward and confused but she still greets everyone as she approaches them. She doesn't protest when Eleanora gestures for her to sit down beside Joanna, which places her across from Jocelyn and Bones.

"Where have you been hidin' away all day?" Eleanora asks as she sets a plate before Jim.

Jocelyn and Bones look curious about this answer as well, most likely for two different reasons.

"I went to see, Florence. But I picked my bike up from the shop before that," Jim answers as she separates the chopped hotdogs from the beans and cornbread.

"You drive a _vroom_cycle?" Jocelyn asks as she eats delicately with slow and posh movements.

"Vroomcycle?" Jim echoes.

Eleanora chuckles, as does Bones. She says, "She means a motorcycle but she likes to label vehicles by their sound."

Jim wordlessly nods before she turns to address Joanna. "It's a bike I built myself."

"That's hardly surprising," Jocelyn intones.

Jim looks at her carefully. "I don't think I understand what you mean."

"You just seem the type," Jocelyn merely replies with an unkind grin. She turns her gaze away, dismissing Jim quickly like she always does. "Eleanora, this is as fantastic as I remember. I just wish I would have nicked the recipe from you while I still had the chance."

Eleanora quirks an eyebrow. "You spendin' time in the kitchen now, Joyce?" she counters.

Jocelyn flushes and Jim would swear she was hallucinating it if it weren't happening right before her eyes. She says, "Well, now that I won't have the pleasure of Leonard's company, I'm going to have to find some way to appease Joanna's healthy appetite."

Eleanora hums thoughtfully as she glances over at her granddaughter, who is engrossed in her meal and ignoring everything else around her. "Well, if that's the case, I'm sure you need only ask Len. Boy knows all my secrets anyway."

Bones glares at his mother. "I ain't so sure about that. I've had to stay in the kitchen with you and watch what you do more than I can count because when I asked you to _explain _how you did things, you always left one or two things out like you were afraid I was gonna sell your secrets."

Eleanora smiles unrepentantly. "A good cook never reveals all the tricks," she claims. "But I'm sure he wont be so withholdin' with you, Joyce. In any case, give Joanna a few years and he'll teach her everythin' he knows and you'll be all the more grateful for it."

Bones snorts.

Jocelyn picks up a napkin and dabs at the corner of her lips. "Well in any case, I know she'll be well satisfied when she's with her father," she states as she watches Joanna eat. There's a split second where she looks unusually tired and even sad before she blinks it away and fixes her mask. "I—I better get going, I have some things that I have to be doing," she decides, standing.

Eleanora frowns. "You don't have to rush off so soon, Joyce. Really."

"You barely ate," Bones adds, looking as concerned as his mother.

Jim pretends it doesn't bother her. She's just a bit confused because sometimes they act like they can't be bothered to be in her presence, and now they're fawning over her. Jim can't say she knows a lot about family or marriage or divorce, but this is giving her mixed signals. She isn't sure what the status is between them now.

"No, no," Jocelyn waves them off with a weak smile. "I'm tired and if I don't leave now, I'll end up spending the night but I just really want Joanna to get used to being away from me. We've talked about this, Leonard. The sooner we start now, the better it'll be in the future."

Bones doesn't look all convinced by what she's saying but he nods just to keep things civil. "Let me at least walk you to your car," he offers, standing and tucking his chair in. "Maybe I should drive you."

Jocelyn laughs cattily and rests a manicured hand on his shoulder. "You've got no obligation to me anymore, Len. Relax. I'm starting to get war flashbacks from when I was pregnant with Joanna," she jokes and Bones laughs.

"I wasn't that bad," Bones protests as he rests a hand over the one she has on his shoulder.

"Debatable. Very debatable."

Jim fidgets in her seat and drops her fork, appetite suddenly lost.

Eleanora glances at her quietly.

Jocelyn rounds the table to crouch down beside Joanna. "Sweetheart, mommy's going to leave you here with daddy for a little while, okay? You two can make up for some lost time," she explains and she neatens the wily curls of Joanna's hair.

Joanna turns her body to her mother and stares at her with curious green eyes as she kicks her legs back and forth where she's sitting on a stack of phonebooks. She has bean sauce all over her mouth and hands and clothes, not to mention the cornbread crumbs in her hair. She says, "Momma, you comin' back right?"

Jocelyn melts at that. "Of _course_. I'll always come back, and you can ask your grandma or your dad to call me so we can talk if you miss me," she promises.

Joanna considers that before she nods.

"Good. You be good for your father," Jocelyn says and Joanna nods vigorously. Jocelyn strokes her shoulder one more time before she stands and plants a kiss on her forehead, pulling away reluctantly. She lingers beside her for one moment longer before she turns away to leave. "Thank you for having me, Eleanora. Ms. Kirk. You all have a good night."

Bones follow her out the front door and they disappear from sight.

Eleanora rises from the table and says, "Debutante ball is in less than two weeks. I figure we oughta prepare ourselves. Get you fitted to some dresses and sort through some routines."

Jim nods wordlessly as she pushes her plate away.

"After church tomorrow, we'll start with family history," Eleanora continues as she begins to pack the food away. "The preliminaries mainly focus on how much pride you have in your community and family."

Jim nods again.

Eleanora sighs. "My God, girl," she says as she turns to her. "What is the matter?"

"Nothing," Jim lies and she immediately feels bad for it. "I just—it's kind of weird. The way that Jocelyn and Bones were acting. It's—weird."

"You'd rather they jump and shout and call each other names? Cause I can tell you they got that all out of their systems a long time ago. I think it's better this way for Joanna," Eleanora calmly explains. "Make no mistake, however. This isn't a prelude to some grand reunion you only see in some sappy romance movie or read from a heavily clichéd novel. There's no love left between those two, believe me. I know when my son has it bad for someone."

Jim glances at Joanna but the little toddler is licking away at her fingers happily as her feet continues to kick out into the air under the table. She feels bad for being annoyed by the civility between Jocelyn and Bones. No matter what, they'll always be tied together through Joanna. She groans and leans forward to bury her face in her hands, her irritation turning on herself for her childish behavior. It's worrying her (her strong reactions to Bones) and it's making her desperate for some perspective.

Joanna presses a messy hand to Jim's wrist and says, "You okay, Ms. Kirk?"

Jim lifts her head and turns to face Joanna's curious green eyes. "Call me Jim," she urges. "I'm fine."

Joanna nods like she wouldn't doubt it for a second. "Can I have your food, Ms. Jim?"

Jim laughs and slides her plate over.

Joanna beams (semi-toothless) before she digs into Jim's half eaten plate.

Eleanora puts the last of the food away in the fridge before she turns to them and tuts at Joanna. "How do you possibly make such a mess of yourself, Jo-Bear?"

Joanna shrugs, spoon sticking out of her small mouth.

Bones finally returns and he looks upset.

"Joyce all right?" Eleanora asks as she picks Joanna up and settles her against her hip.

Bones makes a vague gesture.

Eleanora snorts and shakes her head. "I'm takin' this little munchkin up to be cleaned. Her clothes are in your room, I'm assumin'."

Bones nods. "On the other side of the bed," he clarifies.

Eleanora says, "Right well. I packed ya'll leftovers for lunch and dinner tomorrow. I expect ya'll make good use of them since I'm gettin' back into the habit of not cookin' on Sundays." She looks pointedly at Jim. "Do I have to drag you out of bed for church in the mornin'?"

Jim winces and shakes her head.

Eleanora smiles. "Didn't think so. Night all," and with that she disappears up the steps with little Joanna in tow.

Jim rubs at her right eye as Bones removes the stack of phonebooks from the seat beside hers so he can settle in it. "So—things went well?" she asks.

"As well as we could manage," Bones reasons as he rubs a tired hand down his face.

Jim notices that he's not wearing his ring anymore and she's unsure about how she feels concerning that. She says, "Does Joanna understand what's happened?"

"In the way that she can," Bones supposes. "She was upset for a little while, wouldn't say much but eventually we convinced her that it didn't have to be all bad."

Jim hums thoughtfully, and she jerks a little in surprise when Bones grips her chair and slides it closer to his. She makes a face at him and tries to smother a smile when he kisses her cheek. She pushes his face away and says, "Keep your germs to yourself."

Bones quirks an eyebrow and he covers her upper thigh with his hand with a firm squeeze. "You didn't mind my germs this mornin', as I recall."

Jim cheeks pink. "You recall too much," she grumbles petulantly.

Bones chuckles. "Only cause you supply me with enough to think about," he counters cleverly.

Jim face burns with a healthy flush. "What happened to your gentlemanly nature?" she complains.

"It's still there," Bones says, lips curled in amusement. "I just set it aside when it suits me."

Jim rolls her eyes and slaps his wandering hands away. "Back off, stud. Your _mother _and _daughter _are in the house. I can't even think about doing anything with you without assuming they'll walk in on us."

Bones snorts and grabs her wrists. "I'm not about to lay you out on this table, Jim—interestin' thought as that may be," he guarantees rather candidly.

Jim refuses to think about it, even as a slow flare of heat starts to work its way between her legs. She fidgets in her chair and tries to yank her wrists out of his hold. "Let me go, then," she requests.

"In a minute," Bones murmurs. "C'mere."

"I am here."

"You know what I mean."

Jim sighs long-sufferingly as dramatically as she can while she slides into his lap, legs on either side of his hips as the chair creaks under their combined weight.

Bones lets go of her wrists long enough to cup his hand on the back of her neck and at the base of her spine, pulling her forward into a demanding kiss that doesn't fail to make Jim writhe above him.

Jim groans and wraps her arms around his neck, pressing closer as she sucks on his tongue. She feels like she's drowning, losing sense of time and herself. It's so easy to forget everything when she's kissing Bones like this and he's holding her close like he plans to keep her there for as long as possible.

Bones pulls away with a low curse before he drops his forehead to her collarbone. "I'm startin' to think that I might actually lay you out on this table," he mumbles.

Jim grins and threads her fingers through his perfectly combed hair as she stares over in the direction of the living room. "Don't worry. I don't plan on _letting _you anyway," she says, and she gently eases herself off of his lap.

Bones waits until she tries to pass him before he swats her ass.

Jim yelps, staring at him in flustered outrage before she punches him in the arm (twice).

Bones responds by pinching her inner thigh and ducks his head back when she tries to slap him, grabbing her failing hands as he stands so he can tower over her by a couple of inches.

"I'm going to choke you," Jim warns and turns her head away sharply when he tries to kiss her. She shoves him away. "You're annoying," she says flatly.

Bones just snorts, kissing her quick before she can do anything about it before he wanders over to the sink to start cleaning the kitchen.

Jim sticks her tongue out at his back before she treks up the stairs and tucks away into her room. She grabs a book she hasn't read from the bookshelf before she flops facedown onto the bed. She kicks off her boots and dives right in.

In the morning, when Jim's face is pressed to a crinkled page of the book, a feather light touch ghosts down the sole of her foot. Jim mumbles sleepy before she rolls onto her back and squints one bleary blue eye down at the edge of her bed.

Joanna's standing there in her teddy bear pajamas with messy brown curls and cute rosy cheeks. She crawls on the bed and squishes Jim's cheeks with her small hands. "Ms. Jim, you awake?" she whispers.

Jim blinks tiredly at her and wonders what time it is but she nods.

Joanna gives a dimpled smile. "You hungry? Cause I is and maw-maw and daddy sleep and I didn't wanna wake 'em but I knew I could wake you cause you always help me when I need you to. You hungry?" she rambles with her quiet mousy voice.

Jim snorts and sits up on her elbows as Joanna settles back on her knees. "Sure," she lies. "What did you have in mind?"

Joanna holds up a finger before she climbs off the bed and disappears.

Jim frowns amusedly as she listens to her tiny footsteps hit the stairs one at a time. She glances over at the clock on her nightstand and blinks owlishly when it reads five a.m. in bold blue digital numbers. She sags into her bed with a watery-eyed yawn and a long sigh.

Joanna returns, her small arms full of bowls and spoons and milk and sugary cereal. She dumps it on the bed before she climbs on and drags it over to Jim's prone form. She hands Jim a ceramic bowl and drops the metal spoon inside. She grabs the cereal and pours a fat portion for Jim before spilling a splash of milk on it. Then she does the same for herself before she settles back against Jim's side and crunches away.

Jim smiles tiredly as she watches Joanna through hooded eyes, and she leans up on her elbows again, careful not to jostle Joanna in the process, and she eats with her eyes closed. Somewhere between her final bite, and Joanna's second bowl, she falls asleep again and only wakes up when Eleanora clamps her fingers on Jim's nose.

Jim flounders for a bit as her eyes pop open and she gasps for air.

Joanna giggles from where she's standing on the bed and Eleanora chuckles.

Jim glares at them both. "I could've died," she complains.

"Hardly," Eleanora murmurs before she eyes the cereal and milk mess that Joanna's made of her bed. "My Lord. It's been a day and you already let this girl do as she pleases in your room. Look at the mess she's made."

Jim leans up on her elbows and takes in the crushed grains of decimated cereal intermixed with whole pieces and the random wet spots of milk. Then she looks down at herself and snorts at the colorful tiny handprints marked on her pink overall shorts and white shirt. And as she reaches up—yup—she begins to pull pieces of cereal from out of her messy pony tail.

Bones chooses that moment to enter the room in some charcoal slacks and a grey button down shirt as he adjusts his black tie. He pauses at the edge of the bed and his hazel eyes roam the area of Jim's bed with steadily rising brows. "_Jo,_" he admonishes and shakes his head.

Joanna presses her fingers to her lips and attempts to look contrite. "We had cereal, daddy," she explains, for the better lack of not having much else to say.

"Yeah," Bones states with an expression of exasperated fondness. "I can see that. Apologize for the mess you've made."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Jim," Joanna says with the most woeful pout.

"I'm cool with it," Jim reports as she sits up fully, wincing when her hand makes contact with a wet spot. "She was probably expressing herself. I for one give her points in creativity." She pauses long enough to pop a piece of cereal in her mouth and adds, "And deliciousness." She shrugs. "But no biggie. Nothing a little cleaning can't solve."

Bones stares at her like she's insane, but he also like he wants to climb in the mess with her and shove his tongue as far down her throat as he can.

"Leonard, you gonna get your wily daughter and clean her up, or are you gonna stare at Jamie until Jesus returns?" Eleanora questions with a quirked brow.

Bones flushes before he straightens his tie. "Come on, Jo," he says, holding out his hand.

Joanna grabs his and leaps down off the bed.

Eleanora pats Jim's cheek as she passes her. "Go get ready, Jamie. I'll take care of your bed."

Jim rubs her stomach with a frown. "Actually, I don't feel so goo—"

"Don't you start," Eleanora warns, grabbing Jim by the elbow and hoisting her to her feet so she can shove Jim towards the bathroom. "You can't be cryin' sick when the good Lord comes back."

Jim smirks and she has several interesting responses to that but she decides to undress in the bathroom instead.

It's not long before they all climb into Bones's car and drive out to the chapel for the Sunday sermon. Jim is sure it will be as dry and as boring as ever.

No surprise that when they settle down in the third pew on the right side of the church after a vigorous praise and worship, she's absolutely right. Reverend Nolan is going on and on about Esther and her many virtues. It's as hot as ever and Jim tries to fan herself down as Eleanora and Bones sit on either side of her, attentive as ever.

The only thing that keeps her awake is little Joanna, who is sitting happily in Jim's lap. They play a quiet game of eye spy, whispering hints and answers back and forth to each other throughout the longwinded sermon.

Bones side eyes them with clear amusement and his lips curl as he divides his attention.

Eleanora is less than amused, however, and she continually pinches at them and scolds them, demanding that they be quiet and pay heed to the word.

Jim settles back in obedience and its not long before Joanna falls asleep in her arms. So rather than really paying attention, Jim spends the rest of sermon fanning Joanna and watching the way her tiny eyelashes twitch against her rosy cheeks while pretending she doesn't notice that Bones is watching her do so with a pensive look in his own eyes.

Joanna is startled awake when church ends with the whole congregation giving exalting shouts of 'hallelujah' and thundering handclaps. It scares her enough that she starts crying and clinging to Jim with a sullen frown and wet cheeks.

Bones presses a steady hand to the middle of Jim's back and guides her out into the lobby with Joanna, suggesting they wait until all the excitement dies down.

Jim carefully slides over to the church's canteen and whispers to Joanna that she should sweet talk her dad into buying them snacks to take home.

Joanna gives a sober nod and when Jim sets her on her feet, she races over to Bones and clings to his leg with a fountain of pleas and imploring looks that could melt the heart of Satan himself.

Bones frowns and he shoots Jim a narrow-eyed look that morphs into a glare when Jim grins cheekily and tries to look as innocent as possible. In the end he just grumbles and shoos Joanna along as he wanders over to the church's canteen, grumbling under his breath but not protesting any of the snacks that Joanna starts collecting in her small arms.

Jim grabs a few things for herself (okay maybe _more _than a few things) and lays them down on the counter along with Joanna's pile and the two of them smile to each other when Bones pays for it all with a long-suffering sigh.

Eleanora finds them just as the canteen clerk is bagging all the snacks up. She takes one look at the scowl on Bones's face and the giddy looks mirrored in both Jim and Joanna's expression and she chuckles, calling Bones a 'softhearted boy'.

They head home, and when they get there, everybody changes into some casual clothes (except for Jim, who already is).

Bones and Joanna settle in the living room and he supervises her intake of sugary confections as they play game after game of Jenga.

Meanwhile, Eleanora and Jim tuck away in the kitchen with family photo albums resting between them as they sit at the table. Eleanora goes on in long descriptive monologues as she explains what she knows of the McCoy family history.

Jim listens with avid fascination and attention, making a small 'McCoy Castle' in her mind to organize and arrange the information she's being given. She stores important facts in certain rooms based on a predetermined categories while the more interesting and noteworthy facts go on the top floors of her mental castle.

It's with some reluctance that Jim has to stop Eleanora in the middle of a story to explain that she has to get going because she has a show in a couple of hours and Gloria will pitch a fit if she's late for her costume fitting.

This week is actually the last week for Romeo and Juliet to be viewed. As such, Gloria is already trying to petition Jim to audition for the next upcoming production, which is Wicked. Jim is standing firm on her 'no' for that one because it is a musical and Jim does not dance, nor does she sing. She does know, however, that Zuhi and Zonta will be trying out for the lead roles, and while Jim wont audition herself, she at least wants to see theirs and be there for moral support.

Jim hops on her bike and drives into town to the Hudson Hill Theatre, parking in the back before she strolls inside to see her cast mates already lounging around in the dressing rooms with pizza and wine. She totally gets in on that because why wouldn't she?

Gloria comes in sometime later and fusses at everyone, warning them all against drinking themselves into intoxication or sickness or anything that would be an embarrassment to her. She misses the amused looks that they all throw each other before they're hoarded up and about by Zonta and Zuhi.

Jim and Asiyah play 'Miss Mary Mack' with their hands—a game they have altered and morphed to show off both of their impressive hand and eye coordination—before Jim is pushed on stage for the first act and on the show rolls.

The curtain falls on the final scene and Jim helps Asiyah to her feet as they prepare to join hands with their fellow cast mates to give the final bow. The curtain rises and the audience cheers with their hands and with their mouths.

Jim catches a passing sight of Eleanora, Bones and Joanna, but it's only momentary because the three of them are finding their way to the lobby area. Jim quickly dresses into her street clothes and goes to find them, surprised to see that Joanna is teary-eyed and glaring at her from Bones's arms.

Eleanora explains that Joanna didn't know it wasn't real and she thought that Jim really died. Even after Bones explained the situation, Joanna only grew more upset and annoyed.

"That was a mean trick, Ms. Kirk!" Joanna reprimands as she wiggles in her father's arms. "I didn't—didn't like it at all."

Jim smothers a smile. "I'm sorry. Really. It was pretend though. I was pretending," she patiently explains.

Joanna's mouth fidgets unhappily. "I don't like that kinda pretendin', Ms. Kirk," she mutters sullenly. "I like you a lot. You can't be—you shouldn't do that no more."

"Okay. I'm sorry," Jim promises and rests her hand over her heart like a vow.

Bones lips curl slightly as he rubs Joanna's back in a soothing gesture. "I think she's had enough drama for one day. Let's hit the road," he suggests.

Eleanora nods and kisses Jim on the cheek, murmuring how she did a good job before she follows her son and granddaughter.

Joanna points two fingers at her eyes before she points one finger at Jim in a 'I'm keeping my eye on you lady' gesture from over Bones's shoulder.

Jim laughs and sticks her tongue out at the little girl in reply.

Joanna giggles before the three of them disappear out the exits.

Jim is left alone to circle back to grab her personal items from the dressing room. As she sliding on her leather jacket and fishing for her keys, she startles to a halt when she comes face to face with Mayor Treadway and a guy that looks like the younger version of him. Both of them are wearing pristine suits and look as impeccable as possible. They've both got that pride about them and an air of entitlement that isn't too hard to miss. If Jim had to hazard a guess, she'd say that they were related somehow.

"Ms. Kirk. How fortunate are we to have run into you?" Mayor Treadway says with his calculating politician smile.

Jim gives a two second smile before she stares at both of them with an expectant look. "Mayor Treadway. I didn't peg you for a man who involves himself with theatre in his spare time," she comments coolly.

Mayor Treadway's eyes narrow slightly before he replies, "I am a man of many things, Ms. Kirk. Seein' as how we don't formally know each other, I'll forgive your assumptions."

"As I will yours," Jim counters with a contemptuous grin.

The guy beside Mayor Treadway chuckles and offers the hand with the expensive Rolex on his wrist. "Chadwick Alexander Treadway," he introduces with a smirk (he's got a strong Georgian accent) and after some thought, he adds, "Junior."

Jim shakes his hand, masking her reluctance to do so, and says, "Jim. Kirk."

"Jim," Chadwick echoes with some thought as he releases her hand. "Short for James, right?"

"Yup," Jim merely says and keeps her expression guarded.

Chadwick smiles and he channels the menace of a shark perfectly. "Like the king," he supposes amusedly. "What an unusual name for a pretty young lady like yourself. I would've pegged you for an Alice or a Marilyn."

"Well it's a good thing not," Jim says. "Those don't really fit me."

Mayor Treadway commandeers the conversation by saying, "Ms. Kirk, this is my youngest. I thought you would be interested in meetin' him. You and he are in the same age range. He was quite enthralled by your rendition of Romeo."

"Not a lot of women can portray male characters as accurately and as believably as you did. I was quite impressed," Chadwick admits as his green eyes start to roam Jim's body. "Without seein' you now, I might've even believed you were one."

Jim's fingers tighten around her keys. "I'm glad you enjoyed the show. Now, if you'll excuse me—"

"You don't have to fly off so fast, Ms. Kirk," Mayor Treadway drawls. "I was just about to invite you to join my son and I for some dinner. I hear you've signed up for the July debutante ball. Have you decided on an escort?"

Jim has a sneaking suspicion of where this conversation is headed. "Not exactly. Eleanora—_Mrs. _Eleanora and I are still talking options and making arrangements," she carefully, but vaguely, explains. "And I'll have to take a rain check on that dinner."

Mayor Treadway nods as he rests a hand on his son's shoulder. His son is almost as tall as him. "Well, just the same," he says. "Chadwick would be more than delighted to escort you, should you find that your _options _and _arrangements_ don't quite pan out. And I'll be holdin' you to that rain check. You have a nice night, Ms. Kirk."

Chadwick's grin slips into something more unreadable and he says, "It was true pleasure meeting you. I hope to see you around, Ms. Kirk."

Jim is left alone to speculate about the Treadway men and their true intentions. She's usually good at reading people and she knows that Mayor Treadway is up to something and his son must be as much as a willing pawn than anything. And for some reason, the mayor is trying to implicate Jim into the scheme of things. She exits the theatre with a frown and a sore hand (she was squeezing her keys just that tight).

The ride home doesn't take long at all, and when Jim enters the house, Bones is waiting for her in the kitchen, surrounded by bouquets upon bouquets of red roses in vases. Jim pauses before she fully enters the kitchen. "Um," she says, because she is totally lost. "Thank you?"

Bones scowls as he pushes up and away from the kitchen table. "No thanks necessary. I ain't the one responsible for it," he clarifies, gruffly. He crosses his arms and pins her with a probing look. "Got somethin' you wanna tell me, Jim?"

Jim shrugs off her leather jacket and comes closer. "Nothing I can think of," she replies, casually. She grabs the small white folded card from the vase of roses on the table.

_It truly was a pleasure to meet you.  
>Your performance tonight was inspiring.<br>Here's to hoping we cross paths more often.  
>—<strong>C. Treadway Jr.<strong>_

Jim frowns and turns the small card over in search of anything else that may be indicative. There isn't anything else and as Jim studies each vase filled with roses (there are six in total) she decides that going toe to toe with the Treadways was much like chess—a game has been set and every move is being carefully calculated—they've got the advantage because there's three players on their side of the board. She doesn't know what the end goal is, but she just knows that, even if she's got to do this alone, she's going to hit them with every countermove she knows.

"Throw them out," Jim decides as she crumbles the card in her hand.

Bones's scowl falters and its obvious he's trying to hide how agreeable he is with that line of action but its useless. Guy's an open book. He says, "You—don't wanna keep 'em?"

Jim shakes her head and grabs a vase herself, dumping the water before she trashes the roses. "They're just flowers. What am I going to do with all this anyway?" She shrugs before she grabs another vase.

Bones still looks confused and suspicious, but he helps her trash the rest of them. In the midst of it, he asks, "Who were they from anyway?"

"What, you mean you didn't look?" Jim deflects cleverly and grins.

Bones flushes but he doesn't back down. "I didn't. Had no reason to. You and I aren't—" He stops abruptly before his mouth falls into a sullen scowl. "Forget it," he mutters moodily. "Doesn't matter."

Jim finds his jealousy cute if a bit surprising, but she doesn't say so. "You're right about that," she agrees. "Doesn't matter."

Bones collects all the empty vases with a sour expression and he looks like he wants to chuck them all into the wall.

Jim leans against the table and lets him stew in his bad mood for a millisecond before she adds, "Probably would've been better if they _were _from you, though. I would've kept them."

Bones pauses in the middle of storing those vases in the cabinet over the sink.

"But I bet you'd never bother with roses," Jim continues as she watches him carefully. "No. You're a man of more _personal _touch."

Bones stores away the last vase before he slowly turns to face her with an unreadable expression.

"If you wanted to get me flowers, Bones," Jim goes on to say. "You'd never just assume what I wanted. You would just ask me. And then you would ask me again and again, and then ten more times until you were absolutely sure I was telling the truth, because you know I wouldn't just ever say. I'd be suspicious and then I'd be completely adverse to the idea because I don't do romantic. But you, Bones, you do. And I can keep your flowers because you actually put effort into it."

Bones expression turns over into something more contemplative.

"Doesn't matter, though, like you said," Jim says as she shrugs. "Because you're not courting me and I don't want a relationship."

Bones slowly approaches her. "What's your favorite flower?"

Jim smiles and leans back against the table. "Why?"

"Curiosity," Bones drawls sarcastically.

"Oh, well in that case," Jim snidely remarks back. "Lilacs."

Bones rumbles as he presses so close that their chests touch and Jim can practically feel his heartbeat while his breath ghosts across her cheek. "You're a pain," he complains against her cheek. "And I know you're lyin'."

"Fine. Tulips."

Bones snorts as his lips brushes hers. "Try again."

"_You _try again."

Bones gets a good grip on the outside of her legs and he hoists her up to settle her on the edge of the table. "Don't play with me," he warns playfully. "I'll get it out of you—even if it's in screams."

Jim flushes at his presumptuousness and glares weakly, even though she feels the quiver of desire start to swell in her gut and between her legs. "You couldn't," she mutters.

Bones just quirks an eyebrow.

"Joanna is—"

"Sleepin' in her grandma's bed," Bones coolly interjects. "And I'm sleepin' in yours tonight."

"But Eleanora—"

"You think she don't already know," Bones challenges, pressing a slow, wet trail of open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

Jim fights against the tremble she wants to give at his confidence, and she succeeds because she's too busy being partially horrified at the thought that Eleanora knows that they are having sex under her roof. "Bones," she croaks and jumps slightly when he bites the space where shoulder meets neck. "How are you—how can you be okay with knowing that she _knows _that we—"

Bones pulls back long enough to patiently explain, "I'm too old to be pretendin' that I have any virtue left in me and my momma's always had a keen eye. She don't look at me like I'm Joanna's age and she don't judge."

Jim swallows thickly. "I—just this once because I am totally not comfortable with it," she admits. "And no trying to make me scream either because—dear God, I couldn't even face her if she—just don't."

Bones looks genuinely amused. "Sure," he says.

Jim glares. "I mean it," she says and refuses to be distracted by the way his hands are wiggling under her shirt and to the back of her bra. "I'm going to go look for a house with Florence and Zuhi and you are going to come over whenever I want you to and I wont care who hears what because it _wont _be your mother."

"Is that right?" Bones murmurs as he unclasps her bra and Jim nods. "All right. No screaming tonight." He picks her up, settling her against his waist before he carries her up the steps and into her room. He uses his foot to kick the door shut behind him and treks over to the bed. "I'll be generous, Jim," he promises as he lowers them both to her bed. "But I do except to hear you make _some _noise."

Jim doesn't disappoint, and neither does Bones.

She spends most of the night biting down on pillows and choking back screams as Bones chuckles darkly in her ear, asking her what her favorite flower is.

Jim tries not to say but eventually she ends up crying it out as she comes.

Bones just kisses her like he never doubted she would for a second and Jim lets him.

888

Monday morning, Bones slides out of Jim's arms and kisses away the unhappy pout that she gives in response, muttering something about work and dropping Joanna off at daycare. She rolls over with a sigh after he leaves, closing the door softly behind him, and she goes back to sleep because it's six in the morning.

She wakes up four hours later, showers and dresses in a pair of dark acid wash denim shorts with a black/white geometrical print tunic tank top. She slips on some socks and climbs into her beige boots, and because it looks like it's going to be a particularly hot day, she dismisses the notion of wearing her leather jacket, grabbing her sunglasses instead. She finger combs her hair into messy bun settling on the crown of her head before brushing out her long bangs which, at this point, are reaching into her blue eyes.

Jim exits her room, jamming her keys in her back pocket, and trots down the steps, pausing slightly when she sees Eleanora sitting on the living room floor with her glasses as stacks of paper orders lay spread across the coffee table while she cradles her PADD in her lap. Jim thinks about sneaking out the back door because she feels slightly awkward now after that damn conversation she had with Bones.

Eleanora aims her hazel eyes over to her before she can even get a chance to take a quiet step in that direction. She has a knowing look. "Come here," she says.

Jim hesitates. "Um, I was—just about to go out back and start working."

"You're only working for four hours today, there's no rush," Eleanora states matter-of-factly. "Now come here. I wanna talk to you," she insists and takes off her glasses.

Jim presses her lips together as she slowly strolls over to the living room and she sits on the couch. She folds her hands over her lap and looks at Eleanora guardedly.

Eleanora snorts and knocks her hand against Jim's knee. "Oh would you relax? You're not in any trouble with me, James. What you and my son do is your own business," she assures. "I actually think your good for him. Better than Joyce was in any case."

Jim can feel her face burning but she refuses to say a thing.

"But what I really wanted to talk to you about is the roses last night," Eleanora clarifies. "Who's tryin' to court you?"

"I wouldn't call it courting," Jim corrects with a mild frown. "More like—suspicious plotting. Mayor Treadway is up to something and whatever it is has to do with me and his son for some reason."

It's Eleanora's turn to frown. "Dear Lord," she sighs and shakes her head. "Did either them ask you about who your escort would be for the debutante ball?"

Jim nods.

Eleanora laughs bitterly. "Well, I guess some things never change, least of all _his _tricks," she supposes, more to herself than to Jim. "You know, somethin' of the same happened back when Leonard and Jocelyn were your age. Re-election time was right around the corner and Mayor Treadway thought he'd swing more votes by distractin' the citizens of Hudson Hill with a pretty little weddin'. And he did. Snuck his way back into office again, but what I don't get is why he's tryin' that now. He can't be re-elected anymore, he's already been in office for three consecutive terms. He can't try for a fourth until someone new is elected and runs out their time in office. So what's he playin' at?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. Even better actually," Jim admits as her mind begins to tick away. "I never even thought to consider that." She rubs the back of her neck with a thoughtful frown. "So what, he wants me to marry his son and then—then what?"

"I don't know," Eleanora confesses. "But you'd do well to be careful around him. Don't let him pull you into any of his mess. I gotta feelin' there's somethin' we ain't seein' here. Somethin' that's starin' us right in the face."

Jim nods agreeably. She's definitely going to be mulling this over as much as she can, not to mention the fact that a little research is in order. _Oh God, listen to me, _she thinks with sardonic humor. _Entangling myself into uncovering some kind of political scandal._

"We'll set those worries aside in any case," Eleanora decides after a while—after they've spent a great deal in their own thoughts over the situation. "For now, I'm curious to know myself—have you decided on an escort?"

Jim deliberately does _not _think about Bones in any manner or fashion. But something must show on her face because Eleanora lips twitch amusedly. She says, "I think I'll just wait a little longer before I…decide…"

"Uh-huh," Eleanora murmurs with a knowing glimmer in her eye. "You should ask him. He wouldn't say no. And damn anyone in this town who'll think to talk and spit their opinions on the matter."

Jim blushes. "No," she says quickly and her blush deepens when Eleanora lifts a brow in question. "Him and I—we aren't—we don't—there isn't an _us_, okay? There is nothing for anyone to talk about because we don't have anything. And one stupid ball isn't going to change that."

Eleanora says nothing but her second eyebrow joins the other.

"You know I'm not going to be here forever right?" Jim adds desperately because she doesn't like the doubtful expression on Eleanora's face. "I never planned on staying. My bike is all fixed and I—I could leave anytime I want. But I'm saving up for when I do leave. I just—tell me you understand what I mean, please."

"Okay," Eleanora simply says with transparent patience. "I understand, Jamie. Whatever you want."

Jim sighs in frustration because she sounds just like Bones. "Anyway," she continues, pointedly. "I can probably take Tomoharu. Asiyah wouldn't mind, I'm sure. And I don't have to worry about him feeling me up like I would anyone else. I know one thing for sure is that I am _not _going with Mr. Chadwick."

Eleanora nods as she puts her glasses back on and directs her attention to the PADD in her lap. "Tuesday, we're gonna get you fitted for your ball gown and your formal dresses. Then we'll find someone competent enough to do your hair and make-up because I am useless in that department. And next week we'll work on gettin' you to do some rounds in the community, you know, basic work like visitin' the children in the hospital or sittin' with the elderly in the nursin' homes. We'll need to bulk up your involvements so that when you go through the interview process, they'll have enough to talk with you about."

"Kay," Jim says. "I'm going to go start with the apples. I have to meet Florence and Zuhi about a house."

"You movin' out?" Eleanora asks, looking up at her. "Why am I the last to hear about it?"

"Because nothing was official until a couple days ago," Jim promises with a small smile. "I know, I know—you can't stand the thought of me moving out."

Eleanora snorts but she shakes her head fondly. "You just be careful with yourself, Jamie. And don't you treat me like a stranger. And I _expect _to see you in church still."

Jim chuckles as she stands and moves to hug Eleanora. "Yes, ma'am. I'll even drag Florence and Zuhi with me. I'm sure they'll love that."

"Everyone needs a bit of spirituality in his or her lives," Eleanora supposes as she pats Jim's back. "Now go on. I'm busy and I have to go grocery shoppin' soon. Which reminds me to tell you that you and I are gonna be workin' on your cookin' skills. The McCoys are famous for it and I suspect those stuffy judges will expect you to have that knowledge as well."

Jim makes a face as she pulls away but laughs when Eleanora bops her on the head.

"We'll stick to the desserts, you impossible girl," Eleanora decides with another shake of her head. "Now go before I change my mind and make you prepare a thanksgivin' meal from scratch."

Jim is out the backdoor in seconds.

888

The house, in all honesty, is nice in theory—but in reality, it turns out to be one of those fixer-uppers.

"This is shit," Florence says as the three of them stand on the outside of a silver wire fence, looking at the decrepit state of the two-story home with a dead lawn and broken windows. "Seriously, Bobcat—are we animals?"

"I admit," Zuhi says, making her case. "It's suspicious."

"I feel like people have died here, and not the good kind of people," Jim states as she shoves her hands in her back pockets and cocks her hips in a thoughtful pose. "I bet Mickey and his entire bloodline lives here."

"Mickey?" Zuhi and Florence echo in confusion.

"Yeah," Jim says as she looks over at them with a grin and mimes mouse ears and whiskers. "You know—squeak, squeak?"

"_Oh…_" Zuhi and Florence say in realization before they make disgruntled faces. "Yeah."

"You know it's weird when you two do that, right?"

Zuhi and Florence shrug simultaneously like they don't understand what the big deal is.

Jim rolls her eyes and turns back to the house, readjusting her sunglasses before crossing her arms. "Well how much does it go for?" she asks after a while.

"Ten grand to buy it as is, and fifteen grand to have it all fixed up and flushed out," Zuhi clarifies before she pulls out her PADD from her leather handbag. "In all fairness, it is a good deal."

Jim can't argue with that. "I can come with five, but it would be all that I have right now. But what you're saying is that if we put either the ten or the fifteen down, it can be ours right? Like we wouldn't have to pay rent or mortgage."

Zuhi nods. "Between the three of us, we would have co-ownership and we would just be payin' for things like utilities and furniture and landscapin' and property tax."

Florence shrugs with an agreeable nod. "I can come with the other five if we all really wanna do this. I mean I've seen worse and lived in worse. This is actually sunshine," she supposes.

Jim smiles as Zuhi laughs. She says, "Cool. I'll come with the other five and that's fifteen right there. We sign our names to that dotted line and wah-_fuckin'_-lah. We got ourselves a house."

"Let's do it," Jim decides and throws her arms over both Zuhi and Florence's shoulders, pulling them close. "And we're going to throw the biggest house party that Hudson Hill has ever seen. _After _the debutante ball though cause I can't do anything that's going to spoil my reputation."

Florence huffs and shoves Jim away. "You still serious about that, Blue? Wow."

"What? You only live once and I wanna fucking try it," Jim explains defensively.

"Your funeral. I heard about what goes down in them balls," Florence says and then pauses to snicker immaturely. "Heh, get it? Balls?"

Zuhi high-fives her, muttering, "Nice."

Jim rolls her eyes. "I'm starting to rethink living with you guys again."

"Oh what the fuck ever," Zuhi says and shoves at Jim like Florence did. "Doesn't matter about that party anyway because the house itself is going to take a month before it's in livable condition. That's plenty of time for you and my sister to do your dance and twirl."

"Zonta's participating in the debutante ball?" Jim asks, surprised.

"Yeah. Great Mother only knows why," Zuhi replies with a snort. "Ever since we were thirteen she's participated in them. She was always a girly-girly. Never much liked stuff like that myself."

"Did she always win?" Jim asks.

Zuhi smirks. "Why? Worried about the competition?"

Jim just waves her off. "Just answer the question."

"Well, not _always_, but, she was always in the finals and at least pulled for runner up. This year's different cause every seven years they hold a ball for Ms. Hudson Hill, which is sorta a big deal. Which means all the girls of the foundin' families will put their bids in."

"Why? What do you win?" Florence asks and Jim is curious to know as well.

"Well let's see," Zuhi says as she turns her back to the house. "You get the basics—crown, sash, bouquet—but above all that, you get heaps of sponsorships. Like endorsements for any of your future plans. Say you wanna go to college right? You win Ms. Hudson Hill and _bam_! Someone's payin' your way for tuition, school supplies, housin' and so on. Or say you wanted to go to Orion for a year—you wouldn't have to worry about traveling fees or where you'd live."

Jim twitches in excitement. "And if someone wanted to open up their own business? A bar? No matter the property it was plotted on?"

Zuhi shrugs. "Sure. I've seen them do that before, like pay for it all and help get the business goin' by hookin' up the person with connections and whatnot. The people of Hudson Hill have insanely good connections."

Jim claps her hands together. "Oh that is beautiful. Really. If I wasn't determined before, I am now."

"Yeah, yeah. It _sounds _nice," Florence interjects, waving a placating hand at Jim. "But what does Ms. Hudson Hill have to do in return?"

"Go to county and then eventually state. You're not expected to win those debutante balls but is expected you participate and represent Hudson Hill in the best manner possible. And also you have to spend the equivalent of a year in Hudson Hill, doin' things like bookin' speakin' engagements to discuss a certain topic or platform of your choice, but it has to be like somethin' that really spreads awareness. And you have to participate actively with the town's plannin' committee for all the upcomin' events and you have to sit as a judge for all the other pageants and balls for the younger girls."

Jim makes a face but she considers it in its entirety, because really, compared to what she would be getting in return, well, it did seem fair.

"Rethinking it, Blue?" Florence asks as she watches Jim's changing expressions with amusement.

"Just planning and organizing my victory speech," Jim counters slyly with a confident grin.

"Yeah, well, don't be offended if I direct all my prayers and well-wishes for my sister," Zuhi warns. "I gotta show my support and all."

"Understood," Jim says with a solemn frown before it breaks into a grin.

Zuhi slugs her arm over Jim's shoulder and pulls her close. "I will do you one small favor, since, you know, you and I are gonna be house mates in the near future," she says.

"Oh? What's the favor?"

"I know who's going to be on the judging panel."

"Do tell," Florence says.

Zuhi smirks and says, "Why, our four favorite people of course!" Then she continues, "Reverend Nolan Dwight, Mrs. Gloria Albright, Rosemary Suarez, you know, the Editor of the Hudson Hill paper in case you forgot, and last but not least and my particular favorite, previous Ms. Hudson Hill herself, Jocelyn McCoy, wait, that's Treadway now, isn't it?"

Jim feels something happen with her face where the features twitch disagreeably in ways that makes her look like a malfunctioning robot feeling feelings for the first time in ever and Zuhi and Florence laugh at her for it.

Fucking hell.

She might be, maybe just a little, possibly, _completely_ screwed.

888

Jim, later that day because apparently it's someone's (a McCoy) kid's birthday, meets Eleanora, Bones and Joanna at a sit down pizzeria joint that is also, in part, a place designed with arcade games, amusement rides, an animatronic show, and other diversions, such as climbing equipment, tubes, and slides.

Jim has a feeling that Joanna is losing her mind in excitement. True to the prediction, when she enters the place, which smells of cheese and tomato sauce, almost stumbling over a few dashing kids fighting over tokens and tickets as the speakers blare with whacky kiddy music, she spies Bones near the back with Joanna on his shoulders. They're standing in front of a heavily lit ball toss game.

Bones is handing Joanna the neon orange handballs and she attempts to chuck it at the carefully sized holes.

Jim smiles and goes over to Eleanora first, who is sitting with Robert (Bobby) McCoy and his wife Keri, and Robert's sister, Judie and her husband Tucker, and Kevin, and Jackson and wow, Jim's proud that she actually remembered all these names. They're all sitting with some other couples that Jim doesn't quite recognize, but she figures that's because they aren't McCoys, rather other parents that reside in Hudson Hill, here for the party with their kids as well.

"Hello," Jim says as she waves at everyone before she holds up the gift bag in her hand. "I'm sorry, I don't—which one of you is the parents of the birthday person?"

Judie, who is tucked under Tucker's arm, chuckles and raises her hand. "That would be us. Our son, Nate. He's seven now," she explains and accepts the gift bag when Jim hands it over. "Thank you so much. You didn't have to."

Jim waves it off with a friendly smile. "Its fine. I know how much kids like getting stuff on their birthday, so I figured I better not come empty handed."

"Well he's sure gonna be glad you didn't," Tucker agrees with a grin as he peers in the bag and gives an impressed nod. "I'll just put this with the others."

Jim crosses her arms and feels a little awkward since everyone is staring at her with curious expressions.

Eleanora waves her over and Jim goes to her side. She says, "Everyone, if you're not familiar, this is James Kirk. She's a good friend of the McCoy family now and a new resident of Hudson Hill. So when you see her on the street, don't be a stranger." She grabs Jim's hand and pats it affectionately.

Jim spends the next few moments learning the names of all the parents and their kids while maintaining light and easy conversation. She doesn't resist when Eleanora makes her sit down beside her and urges her to eat some pizza, which she does. Eventually, everyone's attention turns elsewhere and Jim uses this advantage to grab a few more slices of cheese pizza and slips away to find Bones and Joanna.

Jim smiles brightly as she approaches the big ball pit and watches with deep amusement as Bones pretends to be a shark and hunts out all his younger cousins along with Joanna. She leans against gate and eats her pizza as she watches Bones swoop up Joanna and one of her cousins, tucking them under his arms as he spins around before tossing them.

At some point, they all conspire against Bones, and together they tackle him and bury him deep within the ball pit.

Jim laughs as they all cheer and high-five each other before screaming when he comes springing up like a jack-in-the-box with a great dramatic shout that would make even a dragon jealous. The kids go scrambling in different directions and Bones treks out of the pit as they toss balls at him in outrage.

It takes less than a second for Bones to spot her and she pretends not see him, turning her back to face him when he approaches. He places his hand on the gate beside her head, leaning forward so that his lips brush the shell of her ear to say, "How long you been standin' here?"

"Not long," Jim murmurs as she takes another bite of her pizza to avoid blushing like she wants to. "That was quite a performance."

"Yeah? You should see the one I'm gonna give you tonight," Bones retorts as he presses closer until he's flushed against her back.

Jim chokes and turns red.

Bones chuckles and steals her last piece of pizza before he shifts away. "Come play me at the hoops," he says as he walks over to the basketball arcade area.

Jim huffs as she trashes her plate and pops the last bite of pizza into her mouth before she wipes her greasy fingers off as she joins him.

Bones puts a token in for the both of them and the balls slide down. "Let's do a warm up before we do anythin' serious," he suggests with a small grin.

Jim lifts an eyebrow as she fights back a smile. "You sure you wanna go there with me? Because the last time we wagered something—"

"I won," Bones interjects and shoots the ball with impeccable aim. Nothing but net. He smirks and turns back to Jim, lifting a challenging eyebrow.

Jim rolls her eyes before she picks up her ball, turning it over in her hands as she eyes the metal hoop with some thought. A few seconds later, with some manipulated aim, the ball bounces off the backboard and circles the rim before dropping in. Jim smiles but fixes her face to something serious as she lifts her arms out at Bones, saying, "Now what?"

Bones snorts. "Warm up, then we make our wager."

"Fine."

They spend a couple of minutes tossing their basketballs into their respective hoops.

Jim aims and says, "So what would we be betting for this time?"

Bones waits after he makes his shot before he says, "Me escortin' you to that debutante ball."

Jim gasps and, without thinking about it, chucks the ball in her hand at him in outrage.

Bones is quick enough that he leans away so that it hits him in his shoulder and bounces high enough that he's able to catch it a second later. When he does, he glares at Jim. "You ain't gotta throw it at me. I'm a doctor, not target practice."

Jim just points her finger at him accusingly. "Who the fuck told you about that? Was it Eleanora? It was Eleanora wasn't it?"

"_Christ, _Jim—watch your language. Did you forget where we were?" Bones says with an exasperated gesture around them.

"_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck_," a little kid says, racing past them. "Mommy, what does fuck mean?"

Bones gives Jim a pointed look.

Jim's cheeks grow a little pink but she stands her ground. "Who told you?" she growls.

"Doesn't matter. None of it matters. I'm takin' you," Bones decides and dodges the punch Jim aims at his chest. "Would ya quit! You always wanna resort to violence."

"No!" Jim snaps. "Because you aren't going with me. I'm taking Tomoharu and that's the end of it."

"Go ahead and ask him, but you oughta know that I _talked _to him first and I have a feelin' he ain't gonna wanna go," Bones says with an infuriating grin.

Jim chokes on several different responses before she says, "You're impossible!"

"You're impossible," Bones corrects before he tosses the ball in his hand back on her side. "You want me to take you and I want to take you. I don't see what the problem is."

"How about how it would _look_?"

"And how would it look?"

"Like—like—like it was _something. _And it's not something, okay? It's nothing."

"So? You were willin' to go with Tomoharu and that might've looked like _something. _You're makin' this bigger than what it really is, Kid."

"Me? You're the one going around and scaring off my would-be escorts."

Bones just shrugs.

Jim sighs and takes a moment to calm herself because she would be damned if she argued with Bones inside of a kiddie place like they were a _couple_. "I thought we talked about this. Didn't we? Didn't we say that this isn't anything but—well, you know? Friends with _benefits._"

Bones looks at her blankly and it's confusing. "Yeah, no, I got it the first time around, Jim. And I said okay."

Jim presses her lips together and tries, for all she's worth, to really figure him out because it just feels like every time he says something like that, it's more to it than what she can see. But she can't call him out on it without seeming like she's being paranoid or something. _Is _she being paranoid? God, what the hell is this man doing to her?

"Fine," Jim decides and she doesn't even know why she's agreeing to this or what she's really agreeing to. "You can be my escort, but on the condition that you promise to not fall in love with me in any manner or fashion."

Bones looks beside himself with amusement. "Sure," he says.

Jim wants to sucker punch him. "I fucking mean it," she warns. "And also, no sex. No sex during the whole event, okay? None. We have to be pure. Pure people win things."

Bones is laughing quietly.

"Oh fuck off," Jim says. "I know what I'm talking about. I've actually paid attention a couple times in church. Pure people get the good stuff."

"I think the Reverend meant a different kind of pure," Bones remarks with a humored smile.

Jim waves him off. "I'm not changing my mind. I'm gonna win and then you'll see. You'll see."

"Sure, Jim," Bones drawls placatingly. "Are we gonna play or not?"

"What for? You got what you wanted."

Bones picks up a ball and spins it on his pointer finger (the show-off). He says, "So let's wager somethin' else."

"Like what?"

"Like who gets to be on top tonight."

"…put the tokens in."

888

**Author's Note: **_I don't know what you want me to say. I'm like extremely nervous about the plot. I've got some bombs I'll be dropping in the future. Beware. In the mean time, please comment, review, or criticize. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Two Weeks Later**

**Sunday – June 30th – Noon**

**Mom & Pop's Diner**

"Sorry I'm late. I guess," Jim mutters as she slides into the booth across from Chadwick Treadway Jr. Before he can say anything to her, she quickly picks up her menu and hides herself from his view.

The place isn't as crowded as it could be—most people are probably dispersing to their houses after that rather vigorously boring sermon Reverend Nolan delivered that morning (again). The diner is filled with the sounds of low level conversations and the clanging of silverware against porcelain dishes.

Jim isn't all that hungry. She feels agitated and hot and Bones had been particularly nagging when she explained to both him and Eleanora why she wasn't joining them for a little family get together at an uncle's or cousin's house or whatever. Usually she has the patience for the banter with Bones, but for some reason, this time around, she's been running on a short fuse. It's probably because of all the anxiety. She's been feeling nauseated off and on, but she's been chalking it up to emotional stress. She does have a tendency to have panic attacks when she's worried about too many things all at once.

In this case, it would be the upcoming debutante ball for Ms. Hudson Hill.

Jim would normally ignore an invite extended to her from Chadwick, but this time around, against her better judgment, she decided to accept it because she needed to get out of the house. She needed to just do something different outside of the routine that she and Eleanora had been consistently running through. In any case, she just wants to make this exchange as painless as possible, and also to clear up some misconceptions.

"I'm just glad you came at all," Chadwick finally says after a lengthy silence. "I'm not sure if I'm more surprised that you did when you usually don't or that because you don't, you did."

Jim snorts as she eyes the desserts section. "You make it sound confusing when you put it like that." She waits a moment or two before she says, "I almost didn't to be honest. But then, you know, I thought that maybe if I spoke with you face to face then you'd stop sending hordes and hordes of flowers to the house in a sad attempt to _woo _me. I feel like the florists in this town either hate me or love me."

Chadwick chuckles.

Jim frowns. She didn't expect him to laugh. She lowers the menu to study him. He's well-dressed—dark blue suit and neatly combed hair, the perfect representation of what a mayor's son is supposed to look like—and most confusing of all, he's grinning. She frowns deeper.

Chadwick chuckles again. "Trust me. Not my idea really. All my dad's," he confesses and he straightens his tie. "He's a bit—"

"Old-fashioned?" Jim smoothly interjects with a raised brow.

Chadwick smirks and it actually makes him a bit more attractive (unfortunately). "Well, old, sure—but also a dick," he says, rather candidly.

Jim blinks in surprise. "Wow," she murmurs. "That's not something I expected you to say."

"I know. That's why I said it." Chadwick takes a moment to shrug and he glances around with a showy smile and nod.

It hasn't escaped Jim's notice that they are being watched by the lovely (nosy) patrons of the diner. If Chadwick is trying to make some kind of statement about them being seen together, or if this is being done deliberately, well he sure picked the best spot to do it. If anything, the rumor of them having lunch together will have spread around town by the end of the week. This little sit-down is serving several purposes (obviously).

Jim presses a hand to her stomach as she feels it churn unpleasantly and she tries not to add her growing unease about this exchange to her (already full) plate of stress.

Chadwick goes on to say, "Look, I know how I seem. But, to be honest, I am selfish and I do look out for my own interests. This isn't me apologizin'. This is me tryin' a different approach with you. So in sayin' that, I realize that my dad is a dick but he's the dick in charge of my inheritance, and it _is_ a sizeable one."

Jim scoffs at the audacity of him.

"So suffice to say, I ain't tryin' to do anythin' that would give him even the slightest notion to disown me. I gotta make that bastard happy for a couple of more decades before he dies out and leaves the rest of us in peace," Chadwick explains and he doesn't look the least bit sorry for it, though he does keep his tone quiet so that only she can hear him.

Jim frowns. She considers this information very carefully as she leans forward. "Why are telling me all this?"

"Tellin' you?" Chadwick retorts with a sympathetic grin, like _she's_ the one who is stupid. "Ms. Kirk—you and I have similar interests I think."

Jim sighs. "How do you mean?"

Chadwick shrugs but he's not playing coy. "It's no small thing that James Kirk, daughter of George Kirk, a fallen hero, graces a town like Hudson Hill. And I kinda screwed up when I was away at Harvard. Since my dad got some kind of vested interest in you and everythin', I figured that pursuin' you is the closest that I'll ever get in ensurin' that he isn't gonna cut me off."

Jim tenses and she feels queasy. "I'm not a pawn."

"Not really askin' you to be," Chadwick says, very carefully. "I just need a favor for a favor. I'm sure there's somethin' I can do for you. In fact, I _know _there is."

Jim is about to tell him that the only thing he can do is to fuck right off.

Dixie waddles over with her large stomach and a small notepad. "Oh, Junior. I thought I smelled desperation for approval," she quips.

"_Diane_," Chadwick drawls tightly. "You're lookin' gorgeously fat. Did you eat your husband or is your diet still consistin' of small animals, like, perhaps squirrels or chipmunks?"

Dixie glares and swats her small notepad at his head.

Chadwick easily evades her swings. "Rude and unprofessional, sister."

"You can go suck a dick, Junior," Dixie hisses back, surprising a laugh out of Jim. That draws her attention away from her little brother. "Jim, I hope my dumb brother isn't harassin' you. Did he bribe you into this?"

"Hardly," Jim says. "No worries. I can handle myself."

Dixie eyes her with uncertainty but she leaves it alone. "Well, what can I get for you?"

"I'll take a double cheeseburger," Chadwick says.

Dixie glares at him. "I was talkin' to _Jim_. Not you. You can wait."

Chadwick just shrugs and looks to Jim expectantly.

"I'll just take a small bowl of Greek Kalamata olives," Jim says.

Dixie frowns but she scribbles it out. "That's all?"

Jim wiggles her mouth thoughtfully before she adds, "And I guess some eggs. Scrambled. Messy. With cheese and green peppers. And some toast. Dark." She closes her menu and rubs her stomach. "And a glass of ginger ale."

Dixie nods and writes it out. She turns to Chadwick. "Double cheeseburger and fries. Did I get that right?"

"Perfectly," Chadwick says and hands over his menu. "But please refrain from takin' a bite out of my food when you bring it."

Dixie waves the menus at him menacingly. "You're such an ass."

Chadwick just shrugs and waves her off. "Go away before you go into labor. That'll ruin my appetite for sure."

"Jim, just say the word and I'll have him thrown out. But I'll still charge the food to his account," Dixie promises as she glares at him.

Jim grins slightly and watches as Dixie waddles away.

"She shouldn't be here. She looks ready to pop," Chadwick comments idly as he watches his older sister with something that looks close to emotion, but it's gone before Jim can even be sure. He turns his green eyes back to her with a calculating smirk. "Now—where were we?"

"You were being a vague and condescending ass," Jim snidely replies.

"Ah, yes, now I remember," Chadwick chuckles as he leans forward and eyes her. "You really don't like me, do you?"

"Does it matter?" Jim counters as she leans back and frowns at him. "What do you even want from me?"

"I thought I was pretty clear about that," Chadwick says. "A favor for a favor."

"What's the favor?"

Chadwick looks her right in the eyes. "Marry me."

Jim laughs sharply.

Chadwick lifts both eyebrows. "I'll take that as your way of sayin' you're gonna think about it," he decides.

Jim just goes on laughing.

Chadwick shifts uncomfortably and smiles awkwardly when people glance over at them out of curiosity. "Ms. Kirk, if you can get a hold of yourself—"

Jim presses a hand to her chest as her eyes begin to water and her face reddens with her mocking laughter.

Chadwick grimaces and shifts again. "Glad that you find this funny," he mutters.

Jim coughs as she calms down and finally, _finally_, finds herself saying, "I'm sorry. Did you just fucking propose to me, you ignorant fuck?"

Chadwick's mouth sinks unhappily and he loosens his tie slightly. "Now, now, sweetheart. There ain't no need for name callin'."

"Oh there is a complete need," Jim argues. She shakes her head and laughs angrily. "Oh my God. I should have never fucking came here. Really."

"I don't think marryin' me would be such a hardship," Chadwick tersely replies.

"You can shut up talking to me because you still don't fucking seem to get that what you're initially asking me to do is legally tie myself to you like it's no big deal. Like I don't fucking have better things that I plan on doing with myself or my future. No, you think, oh okay, yeah, I'll just ask this dumb blonde bimbo to marry me for the hell of it. And really, fuck you and your dad if either one of you think I'm just some kind of simple bitch that just does things like that. But you know what? I'm not." She laughs again. "And forgive me, but how old are you? How old do you think I am? I mean I'm just really trying to fucking understand where you're coming from with all this. Because my advice to you would be to concentrate on something other than this bullshit."

"I think you're overreacting and missin' a keen opportunity," Chadwick stubbornly argues.

Jim lifts both eyebrows and feels her stomach quake angrily. "No, I don't think I'm overreacting at all. I think my anger is one hundred percent fucking legitimate and reasonable. Because you don't want to marry me. You just want to use me. No, scratch that. This is your father talking all the way because I know there is _no _way you could've come up with this scheme on your own. I don't think you're smart at all and this approach just proves it."

"Don't do that," Chadwick warns. "Don't act like you're better than me. Better than my family. My dad's done a whole hell of a lot of questionable things, but compared to you, sweetheart, it's pretty saint-like."

"And what the hell does that mean?"

Chadwick shrugs and leans back like he's taken control of the conversation again. "You know, my dad said that you would be difficult. He didn't agree with this lunch and how I wanted to come at you but I was so sure you'd go along with it. Obviously he's better at this than I am. Of course, he's spent so long in politics—things like this must be cake." He goes quiet as Dixie approaches with their food.

Dixie glances between them with a speculative glance.

Jim avoids her gaze as she picks up a fork and viciously stabs into her eggs.

Chadwick dismisses his older sister with a callous remark as he squirts ketchup over his fries.

Jim pops a few olives into her mouth and sighs as the salty taste distracts her from her irritation for a moment. She needs to keep a level head about this. Even though she feels a headache begin to pulse between her temples, she needs to keep calm because blowing up isn't going to deter Treadway Jr. from the grand conspiracy of things.

They eat in silence for the next ten minutes but Jim watches him closely.

Chadwick pretends not to notice her venomous glares.

Jim takes one last bite of her toast and pushes her plate to the side as she reaches for her glass of ginger ale, hoping it settles her upset stomach.

"My dad told me about Tarsus," Chadwick casually comments between bites.

Jim almost chokes as she lowers her glass. "What did you say?"

"I said," Chadwick repeats as he meets her gaze unwaveringly. "My dad told me about that whole business with Kodos. You know he escaped prison right? And that he's going after the remainin' survivors?" He whistles sadly as he wipes at the corners of his mouth with a napkin and reaches for his water. "That's bad news for you, ain't it? I mean, you were there and everythin'."

"How do you—" Jim feels something hot and furious swell in her throat. "How does he know about any of that?"

"Politics," Chadwick merely says as though it explains everything, and yeah, maybe it does. "But I think the real question is—are you so sure that you won't reconsider my little proposal?"

"What?" Jim says and fights against a tremble. "I say yes and then you what? Protect me? Not spread it around town or to the media? What?"

"It's all very simple, Ms. Kirk," Chadwick assures calmly, like it's supposed to be a comfort. "I'm reasonable. Really. I didn't want it to come to this. I thought you'd be right on board, but, you backed me into a corner. What can I say?" He shrugs. "But I'll tell you what, sweetheart. I'll let you think about it."

"Or I can leave town tonight and never come back."

Chadwick smirks. "You ain't gonna do that."

"Why not?"

"Haven't you heard? There's a mad man on the loose," Chadwick drawls and widens his eyes dramatically like its all a fucking joke. "And, well, that little friend of yours—Florence, I think her name is—she ever tell you who she used to be?"

Jim's hands curl into fists.

"You don't strike me as the type to just abandon your friends when they need you the most," Chadwick supposes lightly as he begins to slide from the booth. He approaches her and presses his lips to her cheek.

Jim tenses and she thinks about breaking his wrist. She could. She knows how.

Chadwick stalls any violent actions by saying, "Watch yourself, Ms. Kirk. Very easy to make a public enemy out of you if we know which wounds to agitate." He pulls away with an infuriating grin. "Good luck with the debutante ball. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you."

"Fuck off," Jim mutters.

Chadwick chuckles but he moves to the front of the diner where he pays for their meal before he strides out.

Jim is stuck sitting there because she feels cheap, and also because the cement block of anger and dejection is pinning her to the spot.

Dixie sits across from her. "You okay, Jim?"

Jim says nothing.

"What did he say to you?"

Jim presses down the raw revulsion building up inside of her to say. "Nothing really. Don't worry about it," she says with a sad smile and prays that her acting skills are in full swing. "We just had a disagreement. He's mad that I won't let him be my escort. But whatever. Can you excuse me?"

Dixie nods helplessly as Jim quickly slides out of the booth and to the bathroom.

Jim goes to the stall at the end, slamming the door shut as she exhales shakily. She takes a few moments to breathe as she paces the small area. Her mouth purses as she presses a hand to her stomach before she drops to her knees, lifting the toilet seat to vomit. It takes six minutes before her stomach completely empties itself and at the end of it all she's left shaken and pale. She sighs, feeling only slightly better, and stands, spitting one last time as she rubs her churning stomach. She flushes the toilet and stands shakily. She exits the stall and goes to the sink to rinse out her mouth and splash some cool water on her face.

Jim shakes the water off her hands as her nausea subsides and she waits for the wooziness to pass. She stares at her reflection and the miserable expression on her face before she willfully masks it into something more neutral. She counts to thirty and she takes a moment to rehash her exchange with Chadwick.

Even though he's made it clear that him and his father have some pretty susceptible dirt on her, one good thing remains—Chadwick is an idiot who talks too much. In this complicated chess game, he's made a move that's taken at least three of Jim's pawns but ultimately revealed most of his endgame. She can use that against him.

Jim's more intelligent than both Chadwick and Mayor Treadway combined. It's all about countermoves really. She is going to have to be very careful about her approach to the whole situation. The way she sees it, she has two options—run like hell and never look back or she can stick around and bring them down in the best way she knows how.

Honestly, the main thing Jim wants to do is to just make sure that this whole messy situation doesn't follow her or disrupt her life any more than it's already beginning to. And that fucking whole thing with Kodos and how he's _out there _somewhere—suffice to say, she'll have to put that whole disaster _way _in the back of her thoughts until she has time to sort everything else out. Once she's out of state and where she planned on being in the first place, then, _then_, she'll dive deep and see what she can figure out in order to keep herself safe and from Kodos's psychotic cannibalistic hands.

Jim sighs and straightens her shoulders as she exits the bathroom, not surprised when Dixie flocks to her again with a truly concerned expression.

"Jim, you sure you're alright? Listen, you can tell me anythin', you know that right? I know how my family is. I ain't no stranger to their horrible charms," Dixie firmly states. "They pushin' you into a corner, you let me know and I'll do what I can. I know how they think."

Jim smiles sadly and rests a hand on Dixie's shoulder, feeling slightly bad that she has to use this slightly manipulative technique. "Dixie, don't worry about it. You've got more important things to deal with. And I'm more than capable of handling someone like your brother. After all the boys I've gone through, he really is a piece of cake to figure out," she says, lying only partially. "I have to get home. I got some things I need to do. I'll see you later. We should sit down and have lunch some time."

Dixie nods with a perplexed expression. She's trying to see beyond the façade that Jim has put up. "Yeah. My husband and I got a new place—a house. You should feel welcome to stop by anytime you like," she says.

Jim smiles frivolously. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that. See you," she says and quickly makes her way out the diner. She drops her smile as soon as she makes it to her bike and she hops on, driving to Florence's complex. It's takes her less than five minutes to get there, and she fists her keys in her right hand as she marches up the steps before knocking (very loudly) on Florence's door.

Florence whips the door open with a guarded scowl (like always, why has Jim never noticed this?) but it cools off into a genuine grin when she sees it's Jim. "Oh, hey my lady love. What brings you by?" she asks and presses a bag of frozen peas to her black eye.

Jim brushes past her with a frown and unzips her leather jacket unhappily. She winces at the strong smell of marijuana and corn chips.

"Okay," Florence drawls as she shuts the door and locks it securely. "Someone's got a thundercloud over their head. What's up, Blue? Speak your mind. Let's pack up your troubles."

Jim turns to face her and she ignores how her stomach begins to churn again. "Florence, why do you always answer the door like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're expecting someone else."

"Cause I am." Florence says it like it's obvious. She quirks a red eyebrow as she walks over to her small kitchen and hops up on the edge of the sink to sit there. She presses the bag of peas to her black eye again.

"Who are you expecting?"

"Don't worry about it."

"I have to worry about it," Jim sighs as she draws closer. She doesn't stop until she standing between Florence's knees. "I thought you said you were done fighting."

Florence stares down at her with a guarded expression. "I is."

Jim makes a blatant gesture to her black eye.

"Look—this? I got this when I went home a few days ago. Ran into an old friend. We didn't get on too well as you can see but that's over and done with. I ain't going back there no more," Florence explains, as vaguely as possible. "Don't worry about it."

Jim stares up at Florence for a long while before she asks, "Who were you before you came here? I mean—who were you really before all of this? Before you became who you are now?"

Florence expression goes dark and she leans back against the upper cabinets behind her. "Look at you, Blue. Asking all sort of investigative questions. Makes me wonder. Why so interested all of a sudden?"

Jim curls her fingers gently around Florence's scuffed knee. "I've always been interested, Florence. I just never push."

"You sure as hell is now, ain't you sunshine?" Florence says as her lips curl into a scowl and she brushes Jim's hand off of her. "Don't try that shit with me. I know what you trying to do. You want answers? Don't fucking try and manipulate it out of me. You forget I used to turn tricks—I know all the shortcuts and I'm eight years older than you so I been around the block a few times."

Jim steps back and crosses her arms with a contrite frown. "I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have done that," she agrees.

Florence nods shortly as she lowers the frozen bag of peas. "So you wanna know about who I used to be, huh? Would you believe me if I told you it was safer if you didn't?"

"I don't care much for safety," Jim admits with a careless shrug. "I've never known safe. You should know that, what with us being kindred souls and all." She grins a little.

Florence snorts but she doesn't disagree. "Nah," she decides. "The way I see it, Blue—you still got a shot at something good in this lifetime. I ain't trying to fuck with that. I got too many things I'm paying for now. I don't need you being another one of them."

"I've got this feeling that you're keeping something really important from me," Jim says as she watches Florence closely, but she's still holding that guarded expression. "Did we know each other? From some distant plane or whatever?"

Florence smirks. "Thought you didn't believe in none of that. And besides, we met when we met, Blue. You didn't know me before then and I didn't know you."

"Not even on Tarsus?" Jim boldly questions.

Florence's expression never wavers, but there is something in her eyes. "Oh, Blue," she murmurs. "Tell me you weren't apart of that shit."

Jim isn't so much crossing her arms now as she is just hugging herself. "I was right in the cut of it," she says. "And I just—I really need to know who you were because I have a feeling it has something to do with me."

Florence lowers her defenses and she begins to look sad. "I already told you. I was an orphan and I got mixed up in some bad shit. That's all behind me now."

"Yeah, just about as behind you as that black eye on your face," Jim sharply retorts. "But you know what? I would tell you the truth if I thought it mattered. If I thought it was important but I'm done pretending like your lies isn't affecting me because they are."

"Lies? What's with the attitude?" Florence says, staring at her like she can't believe she's real. "You alright, Blue? Cause you seem to be on edge and angry about something I don't get. Maybe you should take your ass home and calm the hell down. And then when you're ready to come back at me in the right way and stop asking me all these damn questions, then maybe we can talk. But I'm not going to sit here and let you make me feel like I owe you something. If I decide that who I used to be is none of your fucking business then it's none of your fucking business, babe. Point and blank."

Jim snaps, "Fuck you, Florence. Because it has everything to do with me. You know how? Fucking Chadwick Treadway Jr. sits me down and tries to fucking tell me all about myself and my past and who _I _was. And guess who else got thrown into the mix? Ms. Florence. So why would he even think to mention you by name? That's what I really want to know."

Florence rubs her face tiredly and all the fight in her seems to drain out. "He's blackmailing you into something, isn't he?"

"How would you know?"

"Because I know his type. I—fuck, Blue. I just _know, _okay?"

Jim drops her hands and looks off to the side. "He wouldn't be doing anything if you would just _tell_ me what you have to do with any of it." She looks back to Florence. "I can fix it, Florence. I just need you to trust me."

"Fix it?" Florence echoes with a bitterly skeptic snort. "Don't you think I been spending my whole life trying to fix it? Listen, you don't have a clue."

"Then help me."

"No. Fuck him and fuck anybody else who's trying to make you do something you don't want to. I'm tired of that bullshit," Florence hisses. "Look at me, Blue. I'm exhausted. So I can't get involved with that. Do you understand? As much as I cherish you as a friend—"

"It's everyone for themselves, huh?" Jim interjects knowingly. She shakes her head and laughs disbelievingly.

"We're survivors, Blue," Florence states, tone explicitly somber. "We're just trying to stay alive. So we do what we have to do, and we cross who we have to cross, and we say fuck you to whoever is trying to screw with that. That's what makes us selfish."

Jim means to say something, anything, but her stomach lurches and she's running towards Florence's shitty bathroom to drop to her knees and puke her guts out in her toilet. Her stomach is already empty so the acid is burning her throat and making tears well up in the corner of her eyes. She coughs and spits, reaching to flush the toilet with a shaky hand. She stands with unsteady knees and wobbles over to the sink so she can wash the horrid taste of stomach out of her mouth. She splashes some cool water on her face before she stumbles out the bathroom.

Florence is already waiting for her with a piercing gaze and a small can of ginger ale.

Jim grumbles out a thanks before she pops it open and guzzles it down.

Florence keeps on watching her like she's trying to figure something out before her expression morphs into an tensely fond smile.

Jim frowns as she lowers the can. "What?" she mutters, shifting away defensively.

Florence just chuckles and gathers Jim in her arms. "You make me love you, you know that right, Blue? I fucking try not to but you just bulldoze your way in," she merely replies.

Jim is so confused but she pats Florence on the back with an awkward 'pat, pat'. "Love you too, um, are we not fighting?"

Florence pulls away and grasps Jim by the shoulders with a grin. "Not anymore," she promises. "Hey, Blue—how long you been sick?"

Jim shrugs, with a raised eyebrow. "Couple of days. But it's nothing. I've been stress puking. I do that sometimes when I'm overworked. I have anxiety issues, uh, why are you looking at me like that?"

Florence is grinning like the cat that ate the canary. "Stress huh?" she says, but she sounds skeptical. "Yeah alright." She takes a moment to chuckle. "God, you're gonna be so pissed when you figure this out."

Jim's frown deepens. "Figure what out? Florence, you're not making any sense."

"I told you, remember? About how I used to turn tricks?" Florence reiterates with a carefully slow tone. "But I wasn't like doing it by myself or anything. I had some girls I used to go up the block with sometimes."

Jim waits for her to continue but Florence doesn't. "And?" she presses.

"Nothing, Blue," Florence says with an amused headshake. "I was only saying cause I know a thing or two about the female body. I notice things, you know?"

Jim huffs out an impatient sigh. "Sure, fine, whatever. Can we please get back to how you're an asshole who's letting me suffer alone?"

Florence's expression sobers. "No. No, I'm not letting you get mixed up with them Treadways by yourself. Not anymore. I'm sorry about before, Blue. I just—I'm used to going it alone but it turns out that you really do need the extra help you can get. Damn." She pauses thoughtfully before she lets Jim go so she can study her. Then she says, "Come sit down, you shouldn't be standing after yakking your guts up like that. You feel dizzy?"

Jim bats Florence's questing hands away. "I'm fine. Just irritated and tired," she admits but she doesn't fight Florence when she pushes her towards her bed. She sits down with a sigh and finishes the rest of her soda. "So you're going to tell me about your sordid past?"

Florence grins and her eyes are brighter for some reason. "Nah. You still don't need to worry about that," she decides and grabs a few pillows to jam along Jim's side so she can lean into them. "Cause here's what I'm gonna do—I'm gonna help you out with this little shit-storm. I got some, you know, experience with these types of things. Firstly, we should keep this between us, kay? No matter what. That's very important. Well, I mean, we'll have to find someone in the police force around here we can really trust because eventually we'll need to bring Mayor Treadway up on extortion charges."

Jim nods tiredly.

"But the thing is, the way I see it, Mayor Treadway has eyes and ears everywhere. Crafty man like that would leave no stone unturned," Florence reasons. "So neither you or I can be seen going into the station. It's gotta be, well, we gotta meet the cop on neutral ground. We can't make it obvious."

"What about the sheriff?" Jim suggests. "Kevin McCoy is a good guy. I don't think—"

"You gotta be really sure about these things, Blue," Florence warns. "We want you coming out of it as unscathed as possible. Do some research. You're good at that but be careful. Remember. We have to pretend as if you're going to go along with this whole—well what is it that they want from you?"

"Marriage to the prodigal son," Jim mutters with an unhappy frown.

Florence snorts. "Figures," she says. "Okay, well yeah. We'll have to work fast. I mean we're going to need a deadline of three months. After that, well, things are going to get complicated I think."

"Why?"

"Just trust me," Florence says. "Now, here's what you're going to do…"

Jim listens very carefully as she picks up the metal slinky resting on the bed and plays with it.

888

**Wednesday – July 1st **– **7:56 a.m.**

Jim jerks awake and flounders for a bit before she pulls herself from under a pile of sweaters and empty ice cream cartons. She blinks and tries to adjust against the natural light filtering in from the windows. Florence is curled up beside her and that's when she remembers that instead of going home, she crashed with Florence.

Big mistake.

Jim curses and springs to her feet, looking for her keys with a mantra of, "Fuck, fuck, _fuck! _I am so late and Eleanora is going to kill me!" She makes a triumphant sound when she locates her keys and she quickly crawls onto the bed to give Florence a smacking kiss on her cheek before she hightails it out the door.

Jim isn't proud to say that she broke several rules of the road to make it back to the house in less than ten minutes but that's exactly what she does. She races up the steps and into the house, where Eleanora and Pauline are waiting in the living room with mugs of steaming tea.

Pauline is an old college buddy of Eleanora. They are roughly the same age, and they've been close friends for a long time. Jim had learned through Pauline that Eleanora used to be a dancer, and she was quite good at it, while Pauline had stuck close to the areas of cosmetology. When Eleanora had petitioned Pauline for her help with Jim, she had accepted it gracefully, coming down from Ohio (where she originally lives) to offer her assistance for the next month.

Which ultimately meant that Bones had to give his room up and go stay with his cousin Kevin in the meantime so that Pauline could have some space of her own.

Jim won't deny that she misses him because she does. She hasn't seen him in a while but they're both busy doing their own thing. Besides, she likes Pauline. She's the kind of woman who speaks her mind and is really eccentric in a mystical way. She's a widow, like Eleanora, and she has four kids (three boys and one girl, all off to college or settled down with their respective families). She reminds Jim of an older Florence, but with more life experience and a deeper flare for astrology and horoscopes and all the tea-reading gibberish.

"Sorry, sorry!" Jim implores. "I know I'm late. I didn't plan on spending the night with Florence."

Eleanora sets her tea down and stands. "Jamie, I—"

"Please don't kill me. I will be in and out of the shower in like two minutes," Jim promises as Eleanora approaches her. "We still have an hour before we have to be at the Treadway Manor right? Don't kill me please."

"James," Eleanora says, stopping her from rambling. "I was just gonna say that the preliminary interview has been bumped an hour later than originally planned. So, no worries. We're still on schedule. And also, here." She grabs Jim's hand and slaps a sleek communicator on her palm. "So you don't have me worryin' about where you may be when you don't come back here."

Jim eyes it and opens her mouth to say something.

Eleanora beats her too it though. "And before you start with the me pitying you or how you don't need it—you should know that I just paid for the device and for it to be activated. I know how you like to prove your independence, so I'll leave you to pay for the monthly charges."

Jim grins. "I wasn't going to argue," she assures. "I was just going to thank you for it. I do need one. So. Thank you."

Eleanora nods with a small smile. "You're welcome. Use it," she urges. "Now go take a shower. I already laid out the outfit you should wear for today. Pauline and I will be waiting down here when you're ready to get your hair and makeup done."

Jim nods before she gives a small wave to Pauline while she treks toward the steps and up to her room. She frowns as she feels her stomach churn unpleasantly and a brief wave of nausea hits her. She tries to breathe through it as she undresses and climbs in the shower. Luckily, she's able to get through it all without throwing up. She wrings out her hair and brushes her teeth before she gets dressed.

The outfit that Eleanora had chosen is a high waist, salmon colored bandage skirt with a white chiffon sleeveless blouse tucked into it. She slips into some nude leather pumps before she clicks her way down the steps and into the kitchen, where Pauline and Eleanora are waiting for her.

Pauline gets to work with Jim, giving her some very discreet and light makeup, while pulling her hair back into a sleek low chignon with her long bangs falling elegantly into her eyes.

Forty minutes later, they're climbing into Eleanora's truck and heading to the Treadway Manor. During the car ride, Eleanora quizzes and reiterates to Jim what she should expect during her preliminary interview.

Jim tries to calm her nerves as they drive down the private road, leading up to the circular driveway where, unsurprisingly, valets are waiting. She climbs out on Pauline's side and they both follow Eleanora into the extravagant manor, which is as pretentiously decorated on the inside as it appears from the outside.

Though, Jim supposes it _is_ well designed—very expansive and it is obviously made to take in a lot of natural light.

They go into the spacious living room of the manor, where the other girls and their mothers are chatting idly over small plates of finger food and sparkling peach mimosas.

Eleanora drags Pauline over to a group of women she recognizes and Jim takes the opportunity to slide over to the buffet table without supervision. She starts at the middle of the table where the tomatoes and the olives are, stuffing them in her mouth with a bit of feta cheese and whole grain crackers.

"That's not very lady-like," a voice says to her right.

Jim looks over and sees a grinning Zonta watching her. Jim presses a hand to her mouth as she sets her plate down and grabs Zonta in a one-armed hug.

Zonta laughs before she wiggles away. "No huggin'. We're rivals, remember?" she jokes playfully.

Jim chuckles as she swallows the food in her mouth to say, "I'm just happy to see a familiar face."

"Yeah, well, you'll get all cozy with the other girls once the ball really gets rollin' on this whole thing," Zonta lightly warns. "Who are you here with?"

"Eleanora and her friend Pauline," Jim says. "You?"

"Just by myself," Zonta says with a small shrug. "I don't have anyone sponsorin' me yet, but I figure I'd give it another week."

Jim pops another olive in her mouth and chews. "Your mom didn't want to get involved?" she questions.

Zonta gets a little sad. "My mom died when Zuhi and I were sixteen," she confesses.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Jim says, feeling bad for even bringing it up.

"No, it's fine. I mean, it's not, but, I've been managin' the best way I know how without her," Zonta supposes. "Anyway, it's not all bad. Zuhi helps. I can manage my clothes just fine but when it comes to makeup…" She makes indecipherable gesture as she rolls her eyes with a rueful grin.

"Yeah, that's cool," Jim says. "So, while you're here, tell me about the competition."

Zonta snorts. "Zuhi is better at this then me, but I'll try," she promise as she takes Jim by the elbow and leads her to the other end of the buffet table. "Okay, so every year, the debutante ball is always held here at the Treadway Manor. This is something that has been going on since the beginnin' of time practically. Hudson Hill was founded by fifteen different families—the Beckers, the Chaterjees, the Suarezes, the Joneses, the Dwights, the Albrights, the Fosters, the Mulhollands, the Loftuses, the Tarltons, the Hills, the Huffmans, the Millers, the McCoys, and the Treadways."

Jim is familiar with those names since Eleanora had mentioned them.

"For most of them, the debutante ball is just a way to show off and peacock their family line. For others, like me, it's an opportunity to be able to pay for college or spread our business around. It's an exceptional project which means it'll look darlin' on your resume," Zonta goes on to say. She looks to Jim with a grin. "What about you? What are you here for? If you don't mind me askin'. You just don't really seem the type."

"Same as you, I think," Jim remarks as she grabs a shrimp. "I want to open up a bar down in Florida. I think Miami could be a nice set-up."

"A bar? How old are you again?" Zonta laughs but she's not mocking. "No, but that's cool. And smart. Good market over there."

"You know a lot about markets?" Jim asks, lifting the shrimp to her lips.

"Should," Zonta confirms. "I went to Savannah College of Art and Design for a good four years. I minored in advertising and marketing. Thought it would be very useful in the long run."

"Well that's cool. And smart," Jim echoes with a little grin before she pops the shrimp in her mouth and chews.

There's a clink of a spoon hitting glass and everyone directs their attention upward to the indoor balcony looming over the edge of the living room and about the dining room.

Jocelyn is standing tall in a belted wool knit black dress with sheer tights and shiny leather pumps, auburn hair pressed in a sleek bob and full lips painted with a plum purple. She shoulders the attention of everyone like a queen would the affections of her court. She says, "Ladies—I want to thank you all for coming out today. I, as well as my family, welcome you to the Treadway Manor." She pauses with a gracious smirk as everyone applauds.

"It's going to be interesting with her as a judge," Jim comments quietly as she claps along with everyone else. "I picked a fine year to participate."

Zonta chuckles and shushes her.

Jocelyn goes on to say, "Preliminary interviews will commence in the manor library located in the west wing of the house. No worries—I know it is a big place but there will be someone to guide you. Tomorrow, for those selected to continue with the pageant, will be invited to return here for the formal brunch, where we will pass out a roster of scheduled events and important dates, as well as rules and an outline of what is expected from our debutante elects. As is, I want to wish you all the best of luck and again, thank you. It's your contribution to these events that makes Hudson Hill such an upstanding town. Please, enjoy yourselves."

Everyone claps again as Jocelyn's green eyes scope the roam in a hawkish manner while Rosemary Suarez joins her. She whispers something to the Latin woman and pretty soon they're both pinning Jim with judgmental gazes.

Jim turns away and pretends not to notice as she curses lowly. She better go look for Eleanora because she has a feeling she'll be going first. She says a quick goodbye to Zonta before she maneuvers through the crowds of snobbish mothers and daughters. She frowns and scratches the side of her neck as her stomach churns worryingly.

_God, I hope I don't puke again_, Jim thinks. _Jocelyn and her panel of uppity judges would just love that I bet._

Eleanora is standing with Pauline by a porcelain piano with Caroline McCoy and her daughter Serene.

Jim scratches her stomach as she approaches them with a smile. "Hi," she says.

"James, we were just talkin' about you," Eleanora says and she pauses to eye Jim. Her mouth folds unhappily but she covers it with a polite smile. "You remember Caroline? This is her daughter, Serene. She's about the same age as you. Give or take a year or two younger."

Serene looks like she could care less about any of this. Her arms are crossed, her wavy brown hair is in a messy ponytail, her baby blue blouse is half tucked in her grey dress pants and it appears she's kicked off her high heels, choosing to just be barefoot.

Caroline is fiddling with her pearl necklace nervously as she downs her mimosa. "Pleasure," she murmurs as she eyes her daughter with unconcealed disappointment. "Honey, please put your shoes back on," she quietly begs.

"No," Serene says. "They hurt my feet and I feel like I'mma break my neck."

Caroline clutches her pearls tightly. "All the other young ladies are wearin' shoes, honey. You would do well to do the same."

Serene glances around with wry snort. "I don't care what they're doin'. Those dumb Barbies can torture themselves all they like."

"_Serene!_"

"_Caroline_," Serene drawls back in the same tone. "Excuse me, ya'll. I'm hungry and there's a table full of food just over there." She takes a moment to eye Jim. "Have fun with these old ladies. They'll damn near bore you to death with their small talk."

"_Serene!_" Caroline snaps again but Serene is already swaggering over to the buffet table. She sighs and shakes her head. "Pardon my daughter. I swear she don't get it from me. That child has always been wily. I had to bribe her to participate in this." She pulls a decorative hand fan from her designer bag and begins to frantically fan herself. "Imagine. A mother havin' to bribe her daughter with those abominable violent excuses they call video games. I promise most days I can't tell her apart from her older brothers. She damn near acts just like them."

"Settle yourself, Caroline," Eleanora urges with an amused frown. "No need to get worked up over it. Why don't you just forgo the whole thing? She don't seem to interested in it anyway."

"Forgo it?" Caroline says in a stunned tone. "And what? Leave the Beckers or the Huffmans or, or, God forbid, the _Millers_ to win Ms. Hudson Hill? Oh no thank you. I'd sooner swallow my most expensive bottle of perfume." She scoffs and fans herself. "Serene will learn somethin' valuable from all this if I have somethin' to say about it. _And_ I'm sure she'll thank me when she becomes a mother and understands all the hardships I've had to go through with her."

"Serene doesn't strike me as the type to have children," Eleanora remarks lightly.

Caroline snaps her fan shut and squawks indignantly. "Why, Eleanora! What have I gone and done that you would speak such a curse over my family line like that?"

"You forget we share family, and I wasn't speakin' a curse. Just an observation," Eleanora carefully corrects.

Paulina speaks up and says, "Caroline, I think you oughta see to your daughter. She seems to be hell bent on stuffin' every bit of chocolate strudel she can find into her mouth."

Caroline chokes on an angry remark as she storms over there.

Jim laughs quietly as she watches her go but winces when Eleanora pinches her arm.

"You been eatin' things you ain't supposed to," Eleanora accuses. "You're breakin' out in hives and I should strangle you."

Jim tries to look as contrite as possible but it's hard to do because she suddenly feels woozy and her stomach lurches warningly so she presses her lips together.

Eleanora steps closer as she notices. "What's the matter?" she asks as she eyes her. "Your flushed and you look ready to pass out. Say somethin', James, I'm gettin' worried."

Paulina is looking on in concern as well.

Jim wants to assure them that she's fine but she's afraid that if she opens her mouth she'll puke everywhere so she purses her lips tighter.

Eleanora presses a hand to her arm and she looks ready to say something but a uniformed server walks over.

The female server says, "Ms. Kirk—they're ready for you."

"Just a moment," Eleanora says before she redirects her attention. "Are you okay?"

Jim swallows, exhales carefully, and when she feels like it's safe to speak, she says, "I'm fine. I can go."

Eleanora doesn't seem so convinced but she doesn't argue. She grabs Jim's hands and squeezes. "Remember what we talked about," she reminds. "Good luck." She lets go and steps back.

Jim gives her and Pauline a quick smile before she follows the female server to the foyer and up the winding stairs to the second floor. They walk down the hall and pass large family portraits that Jim can't help but to roll her eyes at. They stop in front of double doors and the female server opens the left door, motioning for Jim to walk through.

Jim does and immediately notices that there is a long table placed in the middle of the library where Jocelyn, along with Reverend Nolan, Mrs. Gloria Albright, and Rosemary Suarez are seated on the other side of it. They all have their hands crossed over their own notebooks and they are studying Jim with appraising gazes.

Jocelyn, who is sitting directly in the middle, says, "Please, Ms. Kirk. Sit. We promise not to bite."

There's an empty chair placed across from them and Jim clicks over to it before she sits down with an uncertain smile. She laces her fingers together over her lap and squeezes against the way her stomach turns restlessly.

"First thing's first," Jocelyn goes on to say. "Very important question—why do you want to participate?"

Jim can do this. She has rehearsed her answers a thousand times with Eleanora. She says, "Hudson Hill is a beautiful place full of beautiful people. Historically, the debutante balls are the most oldest and revered tradition. And, as I recall, the Christmas Cotillion in Savannah, Georgia, first held in 1817, is the oldest debutante ball in the United States. I just find that so fascinating and intriguing, as I do with all of Hudson Hill's customs. I'm an open-minded person and curious by nature. Why wouldn't I want to participate?"

Reverend Nolan nods agreeably, as does Gloria and Rosemary.

Jocelyn, however, quirks a finely arched brow. "Interesting answer," she drawls. "You certainly did your homework."

Jim says nothing.

"What kind of extracurricular activities are you involved with?" Jocelyn asks.

"Well, I recently participated in Mrs. Albright's profound rendition of Romeo and Juliet," Jim replies and sends a small smile to the portly woman. "And I also offer my assistance to the neighboring businesses. I have quite a bit of foreknowledge with technology so I do what I can in making things easier for anyone who isn't used to or familiar with certain databases."

"But you do that for money," Jocelyn blankly points out.

"Yes," Jim agrees. "But I go by a 'pay what you want' model. I don't have a rigid fee, especially since I enjoy tampering with wires and rerouting interfaces."

Jocelyn stares at Jim with a neutral expression. "Ms. Kirk, you graduated high school early. What have you been doing since then?"

Jim relaxes the line of her shoulders and lifts her chin proudly. "I've been bartending," she replies.

"But you're underage," Rosemary points out with a disapproving frown.

"True," Jim concurs.

"A moment ago, you made a clear indication that you were very capable of doing trade jobs," Jocelyn says. "Yet you've bartended illegally."

Jim knows what she's trying to do. "I have bartended illegally. I won't make any excuse for that," she merely replies. "I grew up in a small town much like this but the difference is that the people were a lot less friendly and a lot less helpful. I lived in an unstable home where most days I was taking care of myself. The environment got so bad that I took the first job I could just so I could move out. I did what I had to do and I don't regret that. Life just has a way of putting us in those types of circumstances whether we'd wish it or not."

"Amen," Reverend Nolan concurs with an approving nod.

"That's a very brave thing to do," Gloria adds.

"It's understandable," Rosemary supposes.

Jocelyn's plum lips twist unhappily but she maintains a professional façade. "You're representing the McCoy family. How much do you know about that bloodline?"

"Not enough that I could learn more but not so little that I wouldn't know a thing at all," Jim cleverly replies with a little grin. She swallows against the gathering film of saliva coating the inside of her mouth—always a warning sign that she might vomit at any second. She squeezes her fingers together and exhales, internally praying that she can hold it at bay just a little longer. She swallows again and says, "The McCoys are one of the founding families. The most notable thing about them, outside of their comely cooking, is that they've always been sort of invested in life sciences, which, in turn, has helped Hudson Hill overcome most of its trying obstacles."

"All so very true," Rosemary remarks. "In fact, I know of a tale from long ago how my great great grandfather staved the hand of death by one of the McCoy's home remedies."

"And those apples," Reverend Nolan adds in a whimsical tone. "Best apples I ever had."

Gloria fans herself with a decorative fan and says, "Lord knows how they get their cobblers to taste like pure heaven."

"Yes, yes," Jocelyn interrupts. "The McCoys have many talents." She turns her gaze to Jim again. "Ms. Kirk, say we accept your application. Say you make it to the finals. Say you even win." She says that but she sounds vaguely doubtful. "What can you offer in return? What would be your platform?"

Jim straightens her posture as she considers her answer. "I would be asking for support for my own business ventures. And as far as my platform, and what I would be discussing during my speaking engagements—I would like to talk about the importance of encouraging young women in their youth. I feel like the most vital time for a young woman is between the ages of eight and seventeen. I know from personal experience that the environment a girl grows up in can be a prelude to what the ultimate outcome of her future may be. I just want to be able to remind girls and young women and their parents that it's very important to constantly be looking at the big picture because there is always more."

Reverend Nolan nods supportively, as does Gloria and Rosemary. They all lean toward Jocelyn and begin whispering.

Jim feels her stomach slosh unhappily and turn with a growing sense of nausea. She swallows and waits for the whispers to stop.

The four judges all pull away from each other with decisive expressions.

Jocelyn stares at Jim like she's looking at a stray dog. She clicks her pen sharply several times before she says, "My panel and I have decided to let you enroll in the competition. You should return here tomorrow at exactly eleven a.m. sharp for the introductory brunch. Congratulations, and, good luck."

Jim grins happily as she stands and gives them a bobbing bow before she strides out of the library and into the hall. When she's out of sight she gives a little fist pump and high fives herself. She can't wait to tell Eleanora that they were actually going to do this thing. Though Eleanora doesn't say, Jim thinks that she really is pleased to be able to do this type of activity. Jim is just happy to offer her an opportunity to do it. And like Zonta says, this will look good on her resume in the long run.

Jim pauses before she reaches the stairs, and what she does next she's not really proud of. She turns to the large potted plant by the mahogany table and she pukes in the pot. She quickly swipes the back of her hand over her mouth and scrambles away before she can be found out. She finds Eleanora and shares with her the good news.

Pauline gives her a congratulatory hug. "I didn't doubt you for a second, Jim," she promises.

Jim smiles and shrugs. "I guess we can head home now. I'm a bit tired after all this," she admits.

Eleanora eyes her with an agreeing nod. "You look a bit under the weather. Not surprisin' since you went a gobbled up somethin' you wasn't supposed to," she points out.

Jim shrugs again.

Eleanora sighs fondly and the three of them exit the mansion and wait for one of the valets to bring the truck around. The ride back to the house is a quiet one and, much to Jim's embarrassment, she has Eleanora pull over to the side of the road so she can stumble out and vomit onto the ground. When she climbs back in the car shakily, both Pauline and Eleanora are giving her concerned and speculative looks.

When they make it back to the house, Pauline helps Jim up to her room, even going so far as to pull off her shoes for her and tucking her in.

Eleanora joins them a moment later with a steaming cup of ginger tea and a small plate of crackers.

"I feel like a baby," Jim complains (insincerely).

Eleanora just scoffs as she feels around Jim's face. "Well," she sighs. "You don't feel warm. So I don't think this is a fever."

Pauline snorts. "Ellie, my dear, you _know_ what kind of sick this is. I read it off her three days ago. I'm surprised it took you _this _long," she says.

Jim frowns in confusion as she jams a couple of crackers and waits for the tea to get at least lukewarm before she tries to drink it.

"Excuse me, Pauline, but I ain't so quick as you," Eleanora retorts as she sends her friend a look. She turns back to Jim. "Jamie, I want to ask you somethin'."

Jim nods.

"You been feelin' a little off?" Eleanora delicately asks.

Jim shrugs as she chews. "Not really. Not more than usual I don't think. I think at first I thought it was food poisoning but then I remembered that I've been stressing like crazy over this whole debutante thing. It's my anxiety. I sometimes get so worked up that I make myself sick."

"But you've been sick off and on for how long?" Pauline asks and she has the same strange expression on her face that Florence did the other day.

"Maybe a week. Week and a half?" Jim guesses but she doesn't quite understand what any of it is supposed to mean.

Eleanora and Pauline give each other a significant look.

Pauline says, "I think we better leave her to figure it out."

Eleanora doesn't seem too fond of that idea. "Suppose so," she agrees. She stands. "You rest easy, Jamie. Pauline and I are goin' out with a few gentlemen tonight. You need anythin' at all, you call that fool boy of mine or you call me. Understand?"

Jim nods as she settles down in her bed and dips her finger in her tea to gauge the temperature. Still too warm.

"Remember that you'll have to bake those banana crumb muffins for the brunch. I know they didn't say to bring anythin' but trust me, they'll expect it," Eleanora recaps. "It's a way of showcasin' the family's culinary skills. All the other girls will bring their best Suzie Q. and Betty Crocker recipe to the table just to prove the kind of foothold they have in this town as the best of the best, so they'll be especially showy about it. But we McCoys do what?"

"Petite treats. Colossal flavors," Jim reiterates.

Eleanora smiles proudly. "Exactly. As long as you remember that, we'll win this competition easy."

Pauline pats Jim's leg affectionately before she stands too. "Drink that tea. It'll help a whole lot. Don't eat anythin' greasy or oily or spicy when you feel like you can stomach something'. And eat in small portions. I think you should find yourself some applesauce or even make yourself a peanut butter sandwich when you wake from your nap. And you take a lot of naps today, okay? You'll need your strength for tomorrow."

Jim grins bemusedly but nods.

"Good," Pauline pats her cheek affectionately.

"See you tomorrow," Eleanora says as she guides Pauline out the room. The door clicks quietly behind them as they begin a low tone conversation.

Jim sighs and drinks her cooled tea before she puts the empty mug on the nightstand and shoves the rest of the leftover crackers in her mouth. She turns on her side and curls up, grabbing a pillow to hug to her chest as she drifts off to sleep.

When she wakes up some hours later, she feels refreshed and recharged. She stretches out like a lazy cat with a content sigh before glances over at the digital clock on her nightstand. It reads three p.m., which means she's slept a good four hours. She climbs out of bed and out of her clothes to take another shower. When she feels nice and clean, she puts on some pajama shorts and a flowy tank top.

Jim walks barefoot out of her room, down the steps and into the kitchen, where she starts setting up to make homemade muffins from scratch. She brings up the ingredients in her mind as she hunts all the materials down, and she throws it all together in the way that she remembers Eleanora telling. When she puts them in the baking pan and then in the oven, she wanders back upstairs for her communicator and returns, intent on comming Bones.

Bones's disgruntled face appears on the small touchscreen of her communicator in thirty seconds flat. He's wearing a charcoal suit under a white lab coat, his hair is a bit unkempt, there are some bags under his eyes and it looks like he hasn't shaven in a while. When he sees it's her, his eyes get noticeably brighter, his scowl slips some, but despite all that, he just quirks an eyebrow. "Somethin' I can help you with?" he asks and its so obvious he's just as happy to see her as she is him.

Jim grins because she can't help it and also because Bones is always a grumpy bastard. "What are you doing right now? Like right now? Like right _right _now?"

Bones's brow furrows but he amusedly replies, "Lab work. Why?"

"Because I—" _really **really **miss you, stupid. _"—need a Cavia porcellus."

"A what now?"

"A guinea pig."

Bones laughs quietly as his hands move off-screen. He's obviously dividing his attention. "Nice to know that you think of me when you think of _that_," he snidely remarks but there is a prominent grin on his face.

"Oh shut up," Jim teases. "You _love_ being my test subject."

Bones just quirks his eyebrow again. He moves his gaze away to something off-screen.

Jim frowns. "Pay attention to _me_," she complains.

Bones smirks but he doesn't look at her. "I'm all ears, Jim. Couldn't ignore you even if I tried," he promises and Jim shouldn't find that sweet or anything but she fucking does.

"Whatever. Just come here. I need you."

"Give me fifty minutes."

"Thirty." Jim kills the connection before he can argue and she just bides her time.

The muffins are ready to be pulled from the oven by the time Bones waltzes in the house (_fifteen _minutes later, ha, that's what she _thought_).

Bones crowds up against her back and licks a streak of flour off her neck as she attempts to knife a muffin free.

Jim smiles and elbows him in the stomach as she wiggles away. She turns and presents him with a muffin. "Eat this and tell me what you think."

"I'd rather—"

Jim blushes and quickly interrupts him. "Fucking _no_," she warns but it loses all venom because she's laughing and trying to fend off his groping hands and seeking mouth. "_Ugh_, would you stop for a second and just sit _down_?"

"I'd rather—"

Jim barks out a laugh and kicks him in the shin as her blush deepens. "You are just the worst. Go sit down. I mean it," she says firmly with an exasperated smile.

Bones just chuckles and sits down at the table.

Jim grabs his hand and drops the muffin on his palm. "Try it. And be honest or I will kick your front teeth in."

Bones snorts. "Real charmin', Kid. How are you not a professional baker with your own television series?" he questions sarcastically.

Jim just shakes her fist at him warningly as she hops up and sits on the edge of the table beside him. She watches him eye the muffin and she rolls her eyes at his dramatically slow and tentative bite.

Bones chews thoughtfully, swallows, and then shrugs. "Not the best I ever had but it ain't terrible," he admits.

Jim groans and punches him in the shoulder. "No, no, no! It's supposed to be extraordinary. That fucking muffin should taste like a billion orgasms rolled into a fluffy and enjoyably loud banana flavored gift from God," she complains.

Bones snorts. "I don't know about all that but, well, it's average as far as anythin' goes," he supposes and downs the rest of it like the true sport he is. He's cheeks are puffed out with it and his raises both eyebrows as if to say, 'See, it's not so terrible that I couldn't finish it'.

Jim scoffs but she grins grudgingly. "Small victories," she mutters and watches him swallow. She presses a hand to his throat and swipes her thumb over his bobbing Adam's apple as he watches her with that focused gaze of his. Her stomach begins to churn again and she frowns. "Help me," she asks. "You don't have to do anything but tell me what I should be doing."

"You want to start from scratch all over again?" Bones questions as he cups his hand over hers and strokes his thumb against her pulse point on the inside of her wrist.

Jim fidgets and says, "Yes, I do and I don't care. I want it to be so perfect that it knocks all the other recipes out of the water. So, help me?" she says, pouting as cutely as she can before she stretches it out into a disarming smile.

Bones sighs and mutters something to himself, but he stands, kissing her quick before he goes to the sink to wash the mixing bowl and utensils.

Jim watches him clean before her stomach lurches and she goes over to the fridge, fingering the top of it before she comes to the plastic bag of green peppermint candy canes. She drops the bag in a chair and pulls a candy cane free before she starts to suck on it. Jim doesn't particularly like peppermint canes, the flavor is sharp and sweet, but it does help her battle against the growing nausea she feels raising again.

Once Bones has everything clean and he sets everything up on the table, he walks Jim through the whole procedure once more, paying close attention and correcting any of her errors. It takes little to no time to distribute the batter into the baking pan (Jim makes enough for all the girls and their mothers tomorrow) and Bones puts them in the oven on a timer.

Jim is sucking away on her sixth peppermint cane when Bones asks her what she wants to eat since its close to dinner time. At first she thinks about saying bacon and peanut butter with portion of Greek olives, but she doesn't think Bones would be too up for that. So she just says, "I don't know. Anything with rice, I guess."

Bones takes her suggestion and ends up making a garden risotto, which is basically medium-grain rice soaked in chicken broth with shredded carrots, basil leaves, green onions, parmesan cheese and small peas.

Jim wolfs it down because it tastes amazing and Bones is a masterful cook. And the best part of it all is that, after two servings, she manages to keep it down.

When the muffins are ready to be pulled from the oven, Bones knifes free an extra one and together they do a taste test, splitting the muffin in half between them.

Jim's tongue literally trembles after the first glorious bite, and she all but throws herself on him in excitement.

Bones curses but he shifts her weight on his hips so that he can hold her up with one arm.

"This is so—like I don't even have words," Jim gushes as she shoves the rest of it in her mouth. She then makes a reach for his half.

Bones laughs and moves his hand out of her reach. "Don't get greedy," he lightly rebukes.

"Fine," Jim says and drops her feet to the floor. She waits until he has his guard down and she snatches it from him, shoving it in her mouth. She yelps when swats her on the ass and follows it with a biting kiss that gets kind of messy because she still has bits of muffin in her mouth. She pulls away after a while and says, "How's life with Kevin?"

Bones ruffles his already unkempt hair with a tired expression and a shrug. "He's a bit too enthusiastic about the NBA leagues goin' on—"

"Shit," Jim curses. "Fuck. Shit. Damn."

Bones quirks an eyebrow.

"I've been missing it. Goddamn, I can't believe I forgot. I _never _forget," Jim hisses with an upset frown. "Who's been playing so far?"

Bones snorts and he looks like he doesn't know whether he's just really amused by her or just genuinely fond. "Beats me. I don't follow it like my cousin does. You'd be better off askin' him than me," he supposes. "I didn't peg you for a basketball fan."

Jim scoffs as she grabs her communicator and pulls up the game stats with a severe frown. "I like sports in general. Basketball, football, baseball—if there's a game on, I'll be watching it. Unless it completely slips my mind." She studies this week's stats before she glances at him. "What about you?"

"Not much of a sports fan outside of baseball."

Jim snorts. "That is so you."

Bones bristles and says, "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Jim promises and she kisses him just to taste a bit of his indignation before she sweeps past him to the stairs. She heads straight to Eleanora's room and turns on her flat screen and spreads out on Eleanora's floor at the foot of her bed so she can watch tonight's game. It's Bulls versus Spurs.

Bones joins her sometime later (probably cleaned the kitchen and put away those muffins) and he rests his head in her lap as they watch the game together. During halftime he asks, "Who's your favorite team?"

"L.A. Heat," Jim replies distractedly as she watches the cheerleaders gyrate to an unfamiliar song. "They used to be the Miami Heat but like five decades ago, before they let all the teams become unisex, a woman, who was as big of a sports fan as I am, bought the whole team because the coach refused to draft women onto the team. Miami Heat was the only team that still had all men while everyone else was starting to have at least two or three women on the team. They're a good team. After they converted over and everything they kept winning the championships. And, well, I'm told my dad liked the team, and I didn't think it would hurt if it was my favorite too."

Bones hums thoughtfully. "You ever buy tickets to go see them?"

Jim grins but she never takes her eyes off the screen. "No, and don't even think about buying me any tickets either or anything stupidly romantic in nature," she warns.

"Hadn't even crossed my mind."

Jim snorts but she shushes him when the game starts again. She spends the end of it ranting how the Bulls should've won and Bones just lets her until he makes the suggestion that they watch a movie. She still grumbles but she eventually quiets down as they watch a documentary film about Geishas and the feudal era of Japan.

It appeals to the nerd in Jim, so she stops complaining about bias referees and shitty defense players to watch. She absentmindedly runs her fingers through Bones's thick hair and scratches the scruff of his beard with her blunt fingernails. It takes her a while before she realizes that he's fallen asleep. She gently shakes him awake and tells him to go lay down in her bed because honestly it looks like he hasn't a good night's sleep in a while. She meant to ask about that, but she got distracted. She watches as he stands and rubs his face tiredly as he stumbles out the door and towards her room.

Jim sticks around in Eleanora's room because she really wants to finish watching the rest of the documentary. When it ends, she shuts everything down and leaves. She quietly enters her room and closes the door behind her with a soft click as she tiptoes her way to the bed.

Bones is sprawled out on his stomach like a starfish and he's snoring quietly. She slips in beside him, punching and rearranging her pillows to her liking before she settles down with a small sigh. She falls asleep and only wakes up once (briefly) when Bones pulls her close to his chest in the middle of the night and curls his arms around her. She mumbles out a slight complaint but she falls right back to sleep with Bones's forehead pressed against the knob of her spine and his breath ghosting between her shoulder blades.

In the morning, when Bones slips out of bed to go to work, he kisses her cheek and Jim, dumb, stupid, naive Jim, makes the mistake of smiling in her sleep for it. Like it means something.

Its not supposed to mean anything.

888

**Thursday – July 2nd **– **11 a.m.**

**Treadway Manor – Dining Room – Introductory Brunch**

The dining room was separated into two groups—the Ms. Hudson Hill elects to the right and the mothers of these elects to the left.

Jim tries not to view any of it with a sense of foreboding, but rather with confidence. Sure, she didn't know anyone besides Zonta and Serene, but, well, that was the whole point of this brunch right? Jim sighs as she carries her two baskets of muffins over to the buffet table plotted in the middle of the room like a dividing line and she places them with the rest of the homemade desserts and dishes. She grabs a plate for herself and pretends not to notice the warning look that Eleanora is sending her way from the other side of the room where she's settled with all the other clucking mothers.

Jim decides to be fair and play it safe. She only puts the food she's not allergic to on her plate. She then carries the plate over to the long table and tries to find an empty seat. She ends up sitting between Serene and Azalea Huffman. This puts her across from Zonta, who is sitting between Hazel Becker and Ruby Chatterjee. When she catches Zonta's gaze, she smiles.

Zonta just frowns deeply before she looks away and ignores Jim completely, engaging Hazel Becker in a shallow conversation.

_Okay, that was weird, _Jim silently thinks. _Really weird_.

"So you made it, huh?" Serene says between bites. She's very crude with her chewing but she doesn't look like she cares about table manners.

"You made it too," Jim says and winces in amusement when Serene grins around a mouthful.

"What? You didn't think I'd make it? Of course I would," Serene drawls as she swallows. "My momma says that if I make it to the final three, she'll buy me that dirt bike I been eyein' for the longest of time. And since I just turned fifteen, I can get a permit for it."

"What model?"

"I was thinkin' a Yamaha."

"Nah. Get an Apollo, old century. It's cheaper and you have to keep up maintenance every three months but it'll give you about 250cc. Plus, you can't beat a five speed transmission with large wheels."

Serene eyes Jim with begrudging respect. "Yeah, okay," she says. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jim nods and begins to eat her food.

"Oh my God," someone moans. Jim recognizes the person to be Allison Loftus. "Oh my _God, _who made this muffin?"

"What are you carryin' on about Allison?" Azalea Huffman scoffs. "Why don't you quiet down? Some of us are tryin' to eat our food like civilized folk."

"Don't think Serene got the memo," Ruby Chatterjee snidely remarks.

Serene smiles menacingly. "Would you like me to cut your throat open, Ruby?"

"Oh please do," Bianca Dwight pleads. "Give us all the satisfaction."

"Fuck you," Ruby snaps.

"Careful what you wish for," Nicki Jones warns airily. "Think she actually would. I've heard things."

Yancy Foster snorts. "Haven't we all?"

"Hey, hey," Larissa Miller scolds. "Can we not fight? Dear Lord, it's _only _the introductory brunch and you all are just bein' as snippy as if we were in the final three."

"No one cares what you think, Larissa. Save all that diplomatic bullshit for when you're goin' down on Francis Spencer," Octavia Suarez snaps. "Which I hear you like to do from time to time."

Larissa's jaw drops and she makes an indignant sound.

"I can't believe all this started over a muffin," Hazel Becker mutters and shakes her head disappointedly.

Serene snorts wryly. "All you bitches just wanted an excuse to get started."

And that little comment right there is enough to make all the ladies really start arguing furiously with each other.

Jim hunches down in her seat and tries to make herself really small because this may or may not be her fault. She pops an olive in her mouth and watches the whole table crash into a flurry of name-calling and slinging rumors.

Jocelyn clicks over with a horde of concerned mothers behind her. She attempts to see what's the commotion is all about. "_Ladies!_" she snaps when she can't get a word in edgewise.

Everyone quiets immediately and the room falls in a hush.

Jocelyn exhales roughly as she bats her hair out of her face and flattens her hands down the lines of her dark dress. "Now then," she huffs. "What has gotten into you all? This is not the way that Ms. Hudson Hill elects behave. I am appalled by the display I just witnessed and I have half a mind to cancel all of it."

The girls start to angrily protest immediately.

Jocelyn holds up a hand and they immediately silence themselves. "Please explain to me what the issue is here," she says. "Because as I remember it, you all have equal opportunity in this pageant."

No one says anything.

Jocelyn grins amusedly. "So no one has anything to say now? No word of explanation?"

Allison Loftus tentatively explains, "Ms. Jocelyn, all I wanted to know was who made this muffin. It's the best thing that I ever tasted."

Some of the other girls scoff.

"No really. Ya'll should try 'em," Allison urges.

Everyone reluctantly follows her advice and grabs a muffin. There is a moment of shared approving noises and speculative whispers.

Even Jocelyn looks begrudgingly impressed by it.

Jim, however, wants to melt into her seat. She wanted good reactions but she sure as hell didn't want it to be like _this_. She feels her face growing red as everyone starts questioning the maker of the muffins. She slowly stands and raises her hand awkwardly. She says, "I uh, did that. I mean, I'm responsible for the—muffins."

All the women in the room give her appraising looks.

Jocelyn, however, looks absolutely livid, but she manages to maintain it and hide it well. She gingerly sets down the muffin and says, "Ms. Kirk, if I can have a word with you."

_Fuck, _Jim thinks. _I fucked up._

Jocelyn clicks her way out of the dining room and into the kitchen as Jim reluctantly follows. Jocelyn hisses a curt dismissal to the servers in the kitchen and they all disperse.

Jim is sorry to see them go. She's not saying that she thinks Jocelyn might strangle her if they're alone, but she's not _not _saying it either. Her stomach flips unhappily and she presses a hand to it.

Jocelyn unbuttons her suit jacket and presses a hand to her own stomach with a small frown. She eyes Jim carefully before she says, "I didn't think I'd have to have this conversation with you until _much _later in the game."

Jim lifts both her eyebrows. "You think I'm going to make it far? Wow, I'm flattered by your confidence."

Jocelyn snorts condescendingly. "Trust me, it's not my confidence that predicts it. Facts are facts. You play the game well. You're smart and likeable by _most _people's standards," she supposes as she eyes Jim critically. "You've even seemed to have garnered the attention of my brother and my father. But me, I don't get the appeal."

Jim tenses and her face slides into something more neutral. She wonders if Jocelyn knows about her struggles with Mayor Treadway and Chadwick.

"This is a warning, Ms. Kirk," Jocelyn continues. "You do anything so disruptive again and I won't care if you have the adoration of the President—you'll be out and that'll be the end of it."

"Okay, but can I just point out the fact that none of what happened was really directly my fault," Jim reasons. "The tension between those girls were already pretty thick and I—"

"I don't care to hear your excuses," Jocelyn curtly interjects. "Don't waste my time again." With that being said, she clicks away in her high heels and return to the dining room.

Jim is left standing there, furious and oh so very tired of it all. She thinks about dropping out but, well, who is she kidding? She wouldn't give Jocelyn the satisfaction of that.

_Success is the best revenge, _Jim thinks and exhales as her stomach flips again. She turns and wanders back into the dining room. She returns to her seat between Serene and Azalea Huffman. She notices that Zonta has moved to the end of the table and has actually switched places with Allison Loftus.

Jim frowns.

Allison Loftus sends her a friendly smile and says, "I'm sorry about before. Didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. I hope Ms. Jocelyn wasn't too hard on you."

"It's fine. I've had my fair share of scolding," Jim replies with a small grin.

Allison looks relieved.

Mrs. Gloria Albright begins to circle the room, passing out binders full of information, scheduled dates of events, rules and regulations.

Reverend Nolan does a brief history, origin and overview of the Ms. Hudson Hill Debutante Ball. He delivers it with as much boring gusto as he does his Sunday morning sermons. It's sad really.

Jim almost falls asleep but Serene nudges her awake with her elbow. She then pretends like she didn't do it at all and Jim is uncertain whether or not she did it on purpose. Serene is a hard girl to figure out.

Jocelyn speaks next, going over the general dress code expected for each formal event, as well as specifying the three most important dates. The first is the Veteran trip, which was a weekend retreat that all the girls are expected to participate in. They take a bus over to Albany County, dress up in old uniforms and perform their designated talents in a large crowd of Earth-Romulan War decedents and their families. The second is Founder's Festival, which all the girls are in charge of coming up with their own booth that showcases their intuitiveness and ambition. The third is the Ms. Hudson Hill Debutante Ball—this is when three girls will be chosen to dance with their designated escorts and give their final persuasive speeches before a Ms. Hudson Hill is elected.

Rosemary Suarez then gives a thorough explanation of the rules and regulations.

The brunch ends with Mrs. Gloria Albright handing out special gift bags (courtesy of Barbara Treadway) and it contains a brand new PADD, a hundred credit gift card, name brand makeup, lotion, perfume, and a miniature bottle of mixed chocolate truffles.

Jim wanders over to Eleanora and sees that she's in a small debate with one of the mothers, so she decides to just go to the bathroom. When she gets there (with the help of one of the servers) she runs into Zonta, who is on her way out. She says, "Hey, Zonta. We haven't got a chance to talk to each other. Everything was pretty thick back there."

Zonta steps back with a strange look on her face. "If we weren't talkin', well, it's cause I didn't wanna talk to you, okay?" she admits.

That flabbergasts Jim. "Um," she pauses to laugh a little in confusion. "I'm sorry. Did I—was there something I did?"

Zonta's mouth shrivels into an unhappy frown. "You know, the other day I took my grandpa to the McCoy clinic for one of his check-ups and I just so happened to run into Leonard. He was kindin' rushin' out, like he was tryin' to get somewhere but I thought, hey, now's a good time as any to go for it."

Jim knows where this is going and she couldn't look any less guilty or contrite if she could in that moment.

Zonta smirks angrily. "So I ask him if he would like to be my escort, you know, baby steps. And he tells me no. He tells me that he had already promised to go with you. And I think, well, that can't be right. Because not too long ago you was encouragin' me to take a chance with him and ask him out. You didn't make any indication that there was somethin' already between you two."

"I—Zonta it's not really—it's not like that," Jim tries to explain.

"It's not?" Zonta retorts. She laughs bitterly and asks, "Are you guys fuckin'?"

Jim's response is stilled and even so it's an even worse omission of guilt.

Zonta shakes her head and rolls her eyes angrily. "God, this is just—wow." She shakes her head again and she looks so upset and angry. "So the whole time, in knowin' how I felt and you still—wow." She rubs at her face tiredly. "I just don't get why you didn't just say somethin' to me or tell me. You could've just _told _me. _Christ_, it would've saved me from lookin' like an idiot."

"We're just friends," Jim tries to clarify. "Bones and I—we're just friends."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Zonta snaps. "Because I thought _we _were friends. Obviously I was wrong so please just spare me. Spare me anymore humiliation." She goes on to say, "You know, I used to think that Jocelyn was the worst kind of person. But hey—at least she's upfront about who she is. She doesn't pretend to care or cruelly encourage hopeless endeavors. So do me a favor, Jim, and don't ever talk to me."

Jim stands there as Zonta brushes past her and she closes her eyes with a regretful sigh. Her stomach lurches suddenly and she has to rush into the bathroom but she only makes it as far as the sink before everything comes it. She groans and heaves for a few more minutes before her restless stomach settles. She spits and turns on the faucet, wincing as she does her best to rinse out the vomit from the sink. She rinses out her mouth and spits again before she goes to the toilet to pee.

Jim can't say if it's all the build-up of stress or her guilt but she starts crying. Like honest to God sobbing so hard her mascara begins to run. Like she is literally peeing and crying at the same time and it's so sad that it compels her to cry even harder. God, what the fuck? She sniffs and tidies herself up as best as she can before she leaves the bathroom. She tries to hold it together as she locates Eleanora, and she must know something is wrong because she excuses herself and goes to Jim's side.

Jim doesn't even have to say anything. They leave and go back to the house.

Eleanora is completely understanding when Jim doesn't want to talk about what's wrong.

Jim slinks up to her room and she curls up in her bed and falls asleep like some kind of toddler. When she opens her eyes, Florence is leaning back against her headboard with a book in her lap. Jim frowns and blinks tiredly, wondering if she's still sleeping. "Florence?" she rasps, tone heavy with exhaustion and confusion.

Florence glances down at her with a small smile. "Hey, Blue. How are you feeling? Ms. Eleanora says you've had a rough day."

Jim thinks about it and her eyes water and she growls in frustration as she scrubs at her eyes. "Zonta knows about me and Bones," she explains as she presses the heels of her hands into her eyes. "She hates me."

"Nah," Florence denies. "She's just mad, I think. She's a sweetheart. She'll forgive you. You gotta give her time."

Jim shakes her head. "Everything is so fucked up. I'm in this competition and I'm still trying to follow through with your plan and I keep puking up everything and my mood swings are just petrifying. I feel like I'm losing control of myself bit by bit."

Florence says nothing.

Jim drops her hands to her sides and stares up at her. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I knew this girl," Florence remarks, very carefully. "Her name was Candice, but we called her Candy, on account of she was so sweet. Sweetest girl you'd ever meet. She was fourteen but she still turned tricks with me. We worked this corner together and we looked out for each other."

Jim frowns.

"One day, she started getting sick, you know? At first we thought it was a bug," Florence goes on to say. "But then we thought it might be food poisoning. She was throwing up, and she was moody and she was tired all the time. So I took her to a free clinic cause I was really worried, you know? What if it had been cancer or something worse like an STD? What we did was by no means safe. But, you know, it turns out it wasn't nothing like that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Florence waits a beat before she adds, "She was pregnant."

Jim's frown deepens. "Wait," she says. "That can't be right. She—it sounds like she had the same thing I do. But that can't be right because I—" She stops suddenly as it dawns on her. For someone so intelligent and clever, she could be completely clueless sometimes. "_Shit_."

Florence nods sympathetically before she slides out of bed and grabs a brown paper bag. "I was hoping you'd figure it out on your own, but it was starting to look like you'd never get the big picture. Eleanora thought it'd be better if I broke it to you."

"_She _knows? Wait, she _thinks _that I—"

"Come on, Blue. What else can it be?"

"Any fucking thing else. I can't be pregnant. I don't—I _can't_—"

"Regardless of what the facts may be, you need to be sure." Florence offers the paper bag to her.

Jim reluctantly grabs it and peers inside. There are at least four pregnancy tests inside and she already had a feeling that there would be. She swallows and climbs out of bed, staring long and hard down at them.

"It's okay, Blue," Florence says quietly as she sits on the edge of the bed. "I'll be right here when you finish. Nothing is set in stone yet, but we need to make sure."

Jim nods robotically and gives a shuddering exhale. She tucks away in the bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a soft click and setting the bag of tests on the sink counter. She chews on her bottom lip as she pulls one free and opens it. As she reads the instructions, she feels a bubbling sense of hysteria and panic start to rise up inside of her. She fights against it as she rips all the boxes open.

Jim pees on each sleek metal stick.

All four of them read '100% positive'.

"_Son of a bitch!_"

Florence's voice floats from the other side of the door, saying, "I take it they all read positive?"

"_Fucking shit!_"

"Yeah, they're positive alright." Florence clucks her tongue thoughtfully. "We can go to the clinic to really make sure?"

Jim fucking wants to but she's also afraid that it's just going to confirm what she already knows.

"How about it, Blue? Clinic? No clinic?"

Jim whips the door open and shakes her head. "Bones keeps a spare tricorder in his room. Let's just grab it and—make sure."

Florence nods and disappears from the room for a few minutes before she returns with said tricorder.

Jim takes it from her and syncs it to her PADD before she hands it back to Florence.

Florence waves the medical wand up and down her abdomen several times.

Jim clutches the edge of her PADD very tightly between her hands in anticipation and waits for the readings to appear. They ping on the screen a moment later. "Fuck," she whispers.

Florence clucks her tongue sympathetically as she takes Jim's PADD and studies the confirming results. "You're three weeks along. Um, I don't mean to get all personal, Blue, but—can you think of a conception date?"

Jim flushes and she knows without having to think about it.

"I'll take that as a yes," Florence says with an amused grin. "So when are you due? I know your good at that math shit."

"March," Jim mumbles, still in shock. She is going to strangle Bones—no, scratch that—she shouldn't even tell him at all. She should just strangle herself.

"What's that look all about?" Florence questions, studying her closely. "Blue, I know you're scared but be reasonable about this."

"How?" Jim snaps in pure frustration. "I'm seventeen and I'm pregnant. How can I be reasonable? I'm not even supposed to—" She stops short and bites back the rest of that sentence. It doesn't matter anyway. Facts are facts. She's pregnant and that's the end of it. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

"Things happen for a purpose," Florence reasons. "It's still your choice to do what you feel is right, Jim. It's always going to be."

Jim doesn't feel reassured in the least.

Florence doesn't talk anymore about it and Jim let's the subject die. She goes through the rest of the day in a daze and ignores the way Eleanora and Pauline look at her with concern. Jim wants to be angry at them, she is angry, but above everything else she's shocked and scared and confused.

This changes everything.

This changes _everything_.

Jim can barely eat and when she does eat she can't quite stomach it and _God _this is morning sickness. It's—she can't fathom that she's been experiencing morning sickness this _whole_ time.

Eleanora, Pauline, and Florence do their best to accommodate her. She doesn't enjoy it because it makes her feel like an invalid and it only solidifies the reality of the situation. She feels the weight of it crush her and her skin feels tight and itchy with the rising panic that tries to fight its way out of her.

In the end, when she can't stand it anymore, when she's sick of the sympathetic and concerned looks, sick of all the ginger tea and crackers, sick of the exhaustion and nausea, she leaves the house. She walks right out the backdoor and towards the stables and no one tries to stop her. She's not sure what she expects when she reaches them, and the smell of hay and shit and animal does nothing to quell her queasy stomach.

So Jim walks through and she keeps walking and walking and walking towards the sunset, following that orange and pink on the horizon until she reaches the edge of the McCoy orchard. She sits down in the wide space of two trees and stares out at the field of tall wheat grass. She's not sure how long she sits there for but the sky turns black and the moon sits heavy and full amongst a sea of stars.

Bones sits down beside her.

Jim doesn't even look at him because she knows that he knows. How could he not? She didn't exactly trash those pregnancy tests or erase the tricorder results from her PADD. She says, "What am I going to do?"

"Whatever you want," Bones promises.

Jim snorts bitterly and hides her face in her hands as she draws her knees close to her chest. "I don't know what I want," she mutters against her palms. "I want to go back in time and not be so stupid about _not using protection_."

Bones says nothing.

"I didn't even think I could—" Jim stops suddenly and she lifts her head. "This isn't supposed to be possible for me, Bones. I swear I was never going to have children. I mean, after what I been through. I just—I don't understand."

"I don't have an answer for you, Jim," Bones quietly replies. "But I suppose God works in—"

Jim makes an angry sound as she jolts to her feet. "Please don't start with that 'God works in mysterious ways' bullshit because I don't think I can handle it. Not now. Not about this," she warns before she turns away from him and presses a hand to her forehead. "I had surgery done on me when I was fourteen, Bones. Against my consent. I was fucking neutered. So unless I was lied to, me being pregnant is pretty much supposed to be an impossibility for me and please don't ask me to explain anymore than I already did because I don't want to relive that horror."

Bones stands and moves so that they're face to face. "I want to know. I always want to know when it comes to you, but I wont push," he promises. "We can focus on the now. Startin' with what you want to do."

Jim meets his eyes. "Do?"

"Are you—do you want to—" Bones seems to be struggling with the words.

Jim understands what he's trying to ask. "I—thought about it. Of course I thought about it but I just—it doesn't feel—I don't want to do that," she decides.

Bones relaxes noticeably and he looks a little less weary. "Okay," he says softly. "Alright. Whatever you want."

"Stop saying that," Jim sighs. "You're as much apart of this as I am. Whatever _we _want. There's going to be a lot of _we _in the future, so, I think that any decision regarding the—" She can't even bring herself to say it. "Just—we're in this together okay?"

Bones nods and he reaches out to rest his hands on her shoulders. He looks like he's itching to scan her from head to toe or haul her into the clinic so he can do some thorough lab work on her but somehow he manages to restrain himself. Barely.

Jim rolls her eyes when he pulls his tricorder from his back pocket and starts to scan her. She isn't exactly surprised but she's marginally annoyed by his fretting. "You're not smothering me, I hope you know that. I'm not going to let you get crazy with your overprotectiveness and precautionary-ness."

"Precautionary-ness isn't a word," Bones mutters distractedly but he stops scanning her. The sneaky bastard jabs her in the neck with a prenatal hypo.

"What the fuck did I just _say_, Bones?"

"You'll live. My momma and Ms. Pauline said you stopped tryin' to eat."

Jim glares at him as she rubs at the side of her neck and stays stubbornly silent.

Bones snorts. "Your underweight. I'm allowed to ask," he claims. "You gotta eat."

Jim sighs and starts a leisurely stroll back in the direction of the house. "It's not my fault. I can barely keep anything down. I mean, I can eat some things but even then it really depends. Like that garden rice stuff that you made. I kept that down."

Bones's mouth twists with something thoughtful as he follows her pace. "What have you been eatin' so far?"

Jim tells him as much as she can recall in the last two weeks.

Bones says, "We'll just watch your diet and see what you respond the best to. It's all we can do for now." He looks undoubtedly concerned.

Jim would find it sweet if she weren't so troubled by everything. The rest of the walk back to the house is a quiet one.

Pauline and Eleanora are settled in the kitchen, discussing something in low tones and heavy glasses of red wine.

Jim envies them for it but she doesn't say anything when she joins them at the table. She wonders where Florence is but she doesn't ask because she is too agitated to care.

Bones gets to work with making a chicken broth for the whole house and, just like Jim, he pretends he doesn't notice the speculative glances being sent his way by both Eleanora and Pauline.

Jim sits quietly and doesn't say much because she's _still _in shock and upset. There is a cold lace of panic still lingering under her skin, and hysteria is building up in the back of her throat in a relentless itch. No matter how many times she swallows and clears her throat, it doesn't go away. She thinks it might be due to the fact that she hasn't completely accepted this pregnancy as a reality—not completely any way.

Pauline chats animatedly with Eleanora, spinning long tales of the days in her youth where she traveled without a care and responsibility, pausing only when Jim clears her throat or shifts in her seat. There is a simultaneous hesitation in the entire room whenever Jim does or make any kind of movement—like they're all waiting for something. It's unnerving and it reminds her uncannily of the scene in Alien of the moment just before the small creature hatches forth and tears out of the unsuspecting victim's chest.

Fucking hell. She really isn't trying to equate this pregnancy to a cult classic horror movie. It's probably the distress and her messed hormones that's making her so edgy. She feels like she wants to crawl out of herself, to shout at everyone to stop treating her like fragile glass, to be able to see her future without only visualizing it in smudges of grey in the shape of infant handprints.

She's too young for this. Too young.

Jim swallows as she exhales shakily, cupping her hands around the steaming mug of ginger tea that Eleanora places in her hands. She avoids everyone's eyes and they leave her alone, seeming to pick up on her prickly mood.

Florence swaggers into the kitchen right at the moment that Bones finishes with dinner. She aims a disarming grin around the room and sits right beside Jim, scooting her chair closer in a blatant gesture of ignoring Jim's personal space.

Jim glares at her red-haired friend as she continually blows away the rising steam of her tea. She hates hot liquids, but she does have to admit that the warmth it provides to the palms of her hands offers something intangibly comforting. It's calming almost and her agitation dips more towards exhaustion. Her stomach quivers but the nausea that follows isn't as thick as usual. She's grateful.

Bones serves her first because of course he serves her first. He goes easy on her though, her portion of soup is a small one. He doesn't linger when he sets down the ceramic bowl in front of her before he's off to serve the next person.

Jim concentrates on drinking her cooled tea before she even tries to touch the soup, which is, by all accounts, actually pretty good. But then again, anything that Bones makes is outstanding. When she does finally eat it, she can tell that she'll have no trouble keeping it down. She finds it only vaguely odd that the things she can keep down is usually anything that Bones happens to make. She wonders if the fetus in her uterus is trying to send some kind of message. She snorts as she thinks about how _already _the kid is being a smartass.

Florence glances at her with an amused expression when she hears the short laugh. She has a questioning look in her eyes but Jim shakes her head, stands and walks to the fridge to procure some olives because she has a craving for it.

By the time she returns to the table with them, Eleanora is inviting Florence to come to the annual McCoy Fourth of July Barbeque (which is being held at Kevin's house this year).

Florence graciously accepts and that's the end of that. She asks Eleanora for a ride home and Eleanora agrees, saying that she and Pauline needed to go into to town to pick up some ingredients for the spaghetti and apple pies they promised to make for the barbeque anyway.

The three of them leave as Jim starts in on her third bowl of soup.

Bones is settled across from her, eating the rest of Eleanora's salad from the other day. He offers to stay the night.

"I—no," Jim says as lightly as she can manage. It still doesn't stop the disappointed look from surfacing on Bones's comely facial features. "I'm sorry, I just—I don't think I can stand the company right now. I'm still kind of agitated and upset and shocked. I need to really get used to the fact that I am pregnant and that we're going to have a baby. I mean, a _kid_, Bones. I'm going to be a mother and that scares the ever-living shit out of me. I never prepared for this. Not to say that anyone does but, I mean, I've gone through so much and I don't know. I just don't know. I'm worried I'm going to screw the kid's life up or be like my own mother. And that—I could never wish that on anyone and I don't want that for our kid. I don't want to run off and leave you to raise them on their own but honestly I can't see how I'll be able to do it. I mean, it's not about me wanting to do it. It's about me being capable enough to—"

"Jim, breathe," Bones gently interrupts as he cups his hands over hers.

It's not until then that Jim realizes that she hasn't paused for a breath and that her hands are shaking. She relaxes, inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly.

Bones goes on to say, "I'm just as shocked and worried as you are. There's so many things that can go wrong and me bein' a doctor, well, I'm pullin' up every horrific medical anomaly I can think of, but I'm not lettin' that knock me over. I'm just focusin' on the important things. The positive things."

"What positives things?" Jim grumbles and she's not trying to be negative but she genuinely wants to know.

"Well for one," Bones says as his lips curl slightly. "You're havin' my kid. What man wouldn't love that?"

Jim makes a face and grudgingly smiles out of flattery while she rolls her eyes at herself.

"And," Bones continues. "I imagine, between us, the kid'll be obnoxiously smart. It'll have your blue eyes, but there's no escaping my nose."

Jim snorts.

"The kid'll be stubborn because both you and I got that bad," Bones supposes with an amused tone. "It'll be a McCoy, so, big heart. Very big heart. Compassionate."

Jim can't argue that point in the least.

"Joanna's always wanted a sibling. Between you and Joyce, she'll be getting two," Bones points out.

Jim's face falls. "Shit. I forgot Jocelyn was pregnant too. And—and—Joanna is so going to hate me for this."

"She's not gonna hate you for anythin', least of all bein' pregnant," Bones corrects and looks at her like he can't believe she would think something so ridiculous.

Jim doubts that but she doesn't say so. She says, "This doesn't change me wanting to leave."

Bones's face crumbles between several different emotions before firming into anger.

"I don't—Bones, I can't stay here in this town. I don't—it doesn't feel right," Jim tries to explain. "And I'm sorry to say that nothing you say or do will stop me from leaving. This kind of life isn't for me."

"And what is?" Bones calmly questions, but there's no doubt that he's upset. "What kind of life do you think this is? What kind of life do you _want_?"

"It's small town life. A dead end life. It's a life for nobodies who's given up and are just content with a less than ordinary existence and I will _never _be content with that," Jim snaps.

A look of severe hurt crosses Bones's expression. "Is that what you think about us? About me? We're just all ordinary borin' people goin' nowhere?"

Jim wants to backtrack because she feels the conversation slipping from her grasp. "I didn't mean it like that," she says. "I just don't want this."

"Yeah, I get it, Jim," Bones says as he stands. "You wanna drag our kid halfway around the world until _you _feel content to settle somewhere that doesn't make you want to run. But no matter what you think, you have to realize that there's nothin' _borin' _or _ordinary _about stability. That's what you should be thinkin' about when you think about what you want for our kid because I do. And _I'm _sorry to say that I don't think you got any idea of what stability is. But it don't matter what I think or say, right? You'll always just do what you want to do because that's who you are. I'm not tryin' to call you out on it, Jim, but my God—you can be unreasonably selfish sometimes."

Jim doesn't move to stop Bones when he storms out of the house without another word. She sits there in that spot for a long time feeling angry and offended, but also guilty and sad.

Even when her stomach turns unhappily, reminding her of the life she's carrying inside of her, she still feels as helplessly alone as she's always felt.

When she hears Eleanora and Pauline entering the house, she quickly escapes up to her room where she buries herself under her comforter, clutching a pillow to her chest as she tries to muffle her sobs.

Jim cries until she passes out from the emotional exhaustion of it all, and she doesn't leave her bed all of Friday.

Eleanora and Pauline have to bring her food and tea and stick around just to be sure she eats it.

Jim does, if only to rid herself of their company. Once they're out of her room, she goes to her bathroom and throws it all up, not because she wants to but because she can't help it. It's a restless battle back and forth with her emotions and her body. She can't stop crying and she can't stop being angry and confused.

She just wants things to be easy, but of course, that's a senseless hope.

Nothing will ever be easy from now on.

888

**Saturday – July 4th – Noon**

It's hot. The worst kind of hot.

It's that sticky thick hot that you can't shake, no matter how much ice cream you eat or how much you fan yourself or no amount of ice cold lemonade or water you drink. It's unbearably hot and Jim wants to propel herself into the iciest reaches of the North Pole.

At Sheriff Kevin McCoy's ranch house, in his sizeable backyard, Jim is sitting on a lawn chair under the pathetic shade of a tree with a decorative fan in one hand and a chilled bottle of water in the other. Her red (white-polka dotted) strapless dress is sticking to every angle of her body because that's how much she's sweating. The messy bun she has atop her head even feels heavy and thick with sweat.

Kevin's backyard is swarming with McCoys. There are picnic tables full of them. Some standing, some sitting, some hovering over at the buffet table where there are all types of homemade dishes. The little McCoy children are running back and forth with exuberant energy and drawling accents as they play all sorts of tag games while waving their sparklers around and popping their small firecrackers. Mothers and fathers scold them here and there but they all ultimately give up and leave them to their own devices.

Eleanora and Pauline are conversing a certain subject of some manner with Caroline and her husband, Terrence near the refreshments table.

Serene is huddled with her older brothers, Joseph, Joshua, and Jackson, and they're all snickering about the quick little pranks they play on their younger cousins.

Bones is sitting with Joanna in his lap at a picnic table with his cousins Kevin, Robert, Donnie, and Howard. They appear to be playing a hand of poker.

Jim tries not to stare or watch Bones at all because that would be pathetic and she's still mad at him and she doesn't miss him or want to apologize for any reason at all.

Nope.

Not at all.

"Moon of my life, what are you doing by yourself?" Florence questions with a fond grin as she joins her by the tree.

"I'm melting," Jim complains, grateful for the distraction, and she fans herself with the (borrowed) decorative fan in desperation for relief.

Florence snorts and says, "If you're melting, then I'm burning up. Fucking look at me."

Jim does. She notices how red Florence's porcelain skin is. "Didn't you think to put on suntan lotion?"

"I did! Three bottles!"

"Damn. I don't know what to say. Just sit with me and stay away from sunlight, you vampire."

Florence rolls her eyes. She tongues her lip piercing before she says, "I think I'll get me something to eat before I do. You want something?"

Jim shrugs and tries not to brood.

"You have to eat."

Jim shrugs again and twists the cap off her water bottle before she sips it steadily.

Florence snorts. "Hold tight. I got you," she promises before she wanders over to where Bones is.

Jim frowns as she watches the quick exchange and notes the way that Bones willfully avoids looking over at her, even when Florence blatantly indicates in her direction.

Florence eventually treks over to the buffet table, fixing two plates before she returns to Jim.

Jim scoots over since they're both small enough to fit on the wide lawn chair and she makes room for Florence, who sits happily beside her. She accepts the plate of food from her before she asks, "What did you ask Bones?"

"Hm?" Florence says between bites. "Oh, that. Nothing really. I just asked him what you could eat."

"You could've asked _me _that."

"Yeah, true. But your ass would only lie."

Jim can't argue that. She glances down and notes the sloppy assortment of baked beans, collard greens, potato salad and grilled chicken.

"Stop looking at it like that. It's not going to kill you. Everything I put on your plate is the stuff that your Dr. Bones made, so I think he knows its safe for you to eat it cause he knows what's in it," Florence remarks as she continues to tear into her plate of food.

Jim starts to eat, but she eats slowly and carefully. It becomes apparent that she's not in danger of throwing it all up when she's able to clear the entire plate.

Florence is more than happy to make her a second plate.

Jim starts with the baked beans this time because they taste sweet and she's craving sweet.

Florence pops open an orange soda and asks, "So what's the deal with you and Dr. Bones? You guys are usually thick as thieves, aren't you?"

"He and I aren't exactly on speaking terms right now."

"Awe," Florence teases. "You two have your first fight?"

Jim scoffs. "Trust me, that wasn't our first fight."

"Well have you ever gone this long without talking to him because of something you guys couldn't agree on?"

Jim frowns. "No," she reluctantly admits.

"Then there you have it. This is your first official falling out," Florence states decisively. "I have hope for you two crazy kids though. You're made for each other. I feel that in my gut."

Jim rolls her eyes and clears her plate for the second time.

"So what were you guys arguing about?"

"How you can never mind your own damn business."

Florence throws her head back and laughs.

Jim feels her lips twitch before she starts chuckling again. She shoves her plate at Florence. "Go get me some more collard greens."

"Go get them yourself since I can't mind my own damn business," Florence snidely remarks but she's grinning. She digs in her pocket for a folded note and she presses it into Jim's hand with a wink. "Remember what we talked about," she says as she nods to the end of the buffet table where Kevin is, making himself another plate as he chats with one of his aunts.

Jim nods and stands with the folded note in hand. She treks over to the buffet table and watches Kevin closely for the right opportunity to talk to him. While she waits, she gets a sizeable portion of collard greens and contemplates grabbing a piece of cornbread but she doesn't want to risk messing up her 'no regurgitation' streak.

Kevin is alone and Jim approaches him with a friendly smile. He smiles back and says, "Ms. Kirk, I'm glad you could find your way out."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Sheriff," Jim replies and grabs his hands in a gentle squeeze, passing the folded note to him with a significant look on her face.

Kevin gives a noticeable pause but other than that he doesn't give any other indication of what Jim has just done. He just curls his fingers around the note and slips his hand in his pocket as he uses his other hand to steady his plate of food. He smiles slightly, just for show, and says, "Please, Ms. Kirk. Kevin will do just fine."

"Only if you call me Jim."

"Can do." Kevin gives a final nod, taking a moment to glance around before he nods again. "I'm sure we'll be talkin' real soon, Jim."

"I'll be counting on it, Kevin," Jim easily returns. She watches as he returns to the picnic table and it doesn't escape her notice that Bones is looking at the both of them with an indecipherable expression on his face. She doesn't dwell on what that could mean or what he could be thinking. She just turns away and makes her way back over to Florence.

Florence watches her eat before she asks, "Everything go okay?"

"I think so."

"Good. Now here's where you leave the rest to me."

The sky gets dark and the kids run around with sparklers. There's some talk of a fireworks show in Town Square, so everyone does his or her part to pack up the food and clean the backyard.

Jim, who's fallen asleep with her head in Florence's lap, stirs and stretches with a content sigh.

Eleanora walks over with Pauline and says, "We're goin' out to Town Square for the lights show. You two better come along now if you're goin'."

Jim nods and stands, grabbing her water bottle and linking arms with Florence as they head to Eleanora's truck. There's a moment when her eyes searches out Bones, and when she doesn't find him, she tries not to feel restless.

The four of them climb into Eleanora's truck and they drive into the center of town where there's a brass statue of the founding men. The small park that everyone begins to set lawn chairs and blankets on begins to fill quickly.

Pauline finds a good spot and Florence helps Eleanora spread a blanket out over the grass so the four of them can sit down.

When Florence folds her legs under herself like a pretzel, Jim sits in front of her, leans back and props her head in her lap. She smiles up at Florence and gives her a thumbs up as the announcer counts down to the fireworks show.

The first firework explodes in the blackened sky in glittering colors of red, white, and blue. The ones that follow vary in size and shape—but most of them all follow the continuing theme of Independence Day.

It's a decent distraction for a while, but then Jim has to use the bathroom and it becomes all about hunting down a porta-potty. She has to maneuver her way through the hordes of people but she finds some portable toilets at the edge of the park. She holds her breath as she pees because the smell is pretty sickening. When she exits she bumps into a body and stumbles back with half of a curse word on her tongue.

"I'm so sorry!" a voice says and when Jim balances herself out she notices the voice belongs to Allison Loftus.

"It's okay," Jim assures and she can't help but to notice the way Allison's eyes are puffy and watery while her nose is red and her bottom lip is trembling. "Um—are you okay?"

Allison sniffs but nods frantically. "I'm fine," she lies as she clutches a full black plastic bag of garbage. She seems to be struggling with it but she manages to toss it into a nearby dumpster.

"Forgive me for saying, but, you don't look fine," Jim says. "Is there—can I help you?"

Allison's bottom lip trembles again. "Honestly, I couldn't bother you with my problems—"

"Allison, please," Jim gently interjects. "I doubt your issues could ever trump mine. Now how can I help you?"

Allison sniffs again. "Well," she starts. "Today, I was in charge of the food drive over at the Hudson Hill Youth Shelter. It was me and some other people that worked the event but they've all gone off to spend the rest of the day with their families and I stayed behind to deal with the cleaning because I am a pushover who doesn't know how to say no and so now I'm stuck dealing with all these dishes and trash and everythin'." She pauses as she gets watery-eyed.

Jim reaches out and pats her shoulder in an attempt to console her. "Um, well, I could help you, if you want. I'm not doing anything important, and honestly I could use the distraction," she admits.

Allison perks up as she wipes away her tears. "Really? Oh, Jim, I would be so grateful if you did. By myself it would take forever but with someone else it can be done. Oh thank you so much." She pulls Jim into an unexpected hug.

Jim blinks in surprise and awkwardly pats Allison on the back. "No problem. Always happy to help," she says.

Allison pulls away with a genuine smile before she grabs Jim's hand and leads her across the street and up the block to the youth shelter. "The kids aren't here. They all went to go watch the fireworks show," she explains as she leads Jim to the cafeteria and then further back in the kitchens where a gang of dishes awaits them. "If you could take care of this, I'll go finish clearin' out the cafeteria. I'll come back and help you when I'm done."

Jim nods and accepts the seaweed green rubber gloves that Allison procures for her before she exits the kitchens. Jim puts on the gloves and they go far up to her elbows, and before she begins washing she calls Eleanora and tells her what's happening so that she doesn't worry about why she hasn't returned.

Jim pockets her communicator and gets to work with cleaning, electing to begin with the clear tumbler cups since it's the easiest and quickest task. By the time she's rinsing out the last cup and setting it in the steel storage racks, Allison is slipping on some dark orange rubber gloves and saddling up beside her.

As they work in tandem, Allison says, "Thank you again for helpin'."

"It's no problem," Jim assures again. "I don't get why they abandoned you. I'd jump at any opportunity to be alone with a gorgeous lady like you." She wiggles her eyebrows.

Allison laughs, clearly flattered. "I heard you were a terrible flirt like Zuhi," she confesses.

Jim's furrows her brow. "Rumors, huh? What else do they say about me? Better yet, who's been saying them?"

Allison looks embarrassed and guilty. "Oh, I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't mean to say that," she says. "It's nothin' really. Just things I heard the other girls say. I don't pay it any attention cause they can be horrid and petty. Like my gram says, if you can't come pleasantly, then don't come at all."

Jim hums thoughtfully as she scrubs a plate clean. "You volunteer often?" she asks, changing the subject so she doesn't get upset.

"As much as I can," Allison supposes. "For as long as I could. I love anythin' to do with kids, and well, I just get to feelin' down about the fact that these kids got a rough deal in life."

"I can relate to rough," Jim mutters and almost regrets saying it immediately after. "I think it's nice you're showing that you care. Things like that count, I think."

Allison nods quickly in agreement. "They're all so very pleasant too. They're nicer to me than most the people I know. I get that everyone in town likes to think of me as a slow-witted and naive girl who can't tell left from right. But I have my qualities, I suppose. What I don't got in brains, I make up for in heart," she decides.

Jim feels a twinge at that. "There's different kinds of cleverness. What's stupid is trying to label just one brand of intelligent," she offers as an alternate viewpoint.

"Oh, well, that's sweet of you to say, really," Allison says with a gentle smile. "Fact is that I'm not all that clever. I been held back more times then I could count and I dropped out of high school from pure frustration and cause it overwhelmed me. I always mean to try and get my GED but, well, I can't seem to get it together." She shrugs in a sad show of accepted defeat.

Jim frowns and says, "What do you want to do? I mean, ultimately, what would you like to be able to do?"

"I don't know," Allison says as she scrubs out a pot. "I guess it would be anythin' to do with kids. Maybe a teacher? But what can I teach them? I barely can get taught myself."

"Stop being so hard on yourself. Everyone has something to offer," Jim reasons.

"Easy for you to say," Allison murmurs. "I heard you graduated high school early and that you got aptitude tests that are off the charts and—gosh, there I go again. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be throwin' your business in your face like that."

"Allison, listen," Jim says as she grabs Allison's wrist to get her to pause. "What are you good at? Irrefutably."

Allison studies Jim's face as she thinks. It takes a moment but she says, "Well, when I was ten, I used to go to the Rec Center and tuck away in the music room where they keep all the instruments. I never did anythin' at first. I just liked lookin' at them and hearin' the others play. But one day I picked up a flute and started playin'. Pretty soon I was doin' it with the rest of the instruments and I was found out by one of the advanced music teachers there and he said that I had amazin' pitch. Music always comes easy to me. Never had to try hard at readin' it or figurin' it out. I just know."

"Allison," Jim says as she smiles slowly. "Are you telling me that you can play any instrument?"

Allison nods like it's not a big deal when it clearly is.

"And you never took lessons?"

"Tried to," Allison says with a huff of agitation. "But each teacher I went to said I was just wastin' their time cause there was nothin' they could teach me that I couldn't already figure out in a second on my own."

Jim stares at her speechlessly. "Do you know how incredible that is?" she says and she makes a wild gesture with her hands to back this statement. "That is genius!"

Allison blinks in surprise. "Yeah? You think so?"

"I know so. You could be a music instructor if you wanted to," Jim says and she feels genuinely happy in this moment. "You could teach at Julliard!"

"You—you think so?" Allison asks timidly and she looks so very doubtful. "I don't know about all that. Who'd hire a high school drop out?"

"Listen, fuck that," Jim says, barely containing her excitement as she comes up with an idea. "I'll tell you what, I'll help you get your GED. I can tutor you, but in return you have to teach me how to play an acoustic guitar. Deal?"

Allison makes a show of mulling it over before she sticks out her hand, and when Jim grabs it, she exclaims, "Deal."

They spend the rest of their time washing out pots and dishes and utensils as they discuss future plans and goals. Allison suggests they meet at the library in one of the study rooms, spending an hour where Jim tutors her and then an hour where Allison tutors her. Jim suggests that they start meeting right away and at least meet up every night that they can because the sooner the better.

Allison hugs Jim again when they finish cleaning. She offers to give Jim a ride home and Jim graciously accepts.

Before Jim climbs out of her car when they reach Eleanora's house, she and Allison exchange comm links. Jim waves goodbye as she yawns and treks up the porch steps to the front door. Allison drives off and Jim tucks away in the house, locking the door behind her.

The house is dead silent, which is not surprising since it's pretty late. Jim figures that Pauline and Eleanora are sleeping, so she takes off her boots and quietly finds her way to her room. She locks her door behind her and strips down to her underwear because she's just that hot. She goes to her windows and opens every single one of them, sighing in relief as the cool night air slithers inside. She then crawls into bed and shoves the large purple stuffed ape off before grabbing a pillow to hug to her chest.

Jim lies awake for a while, processing the past week in her mind as her hand slips down her body and settles on her lower stomach. She feels something in her chest tremble, and before she can think of why, she starts crying. It's different this time though. She's not crying because she's sad. She's crying because she's starting to come to terms with the fact that she's pregnant and that the notion of her being a mother is becoming a very real possibility.

Jim rolls onto her back and stares up at the ceiling with glossy eyes. She's coming to the conclusion that something in her life has to give. So she thinks about Bones's words, about stability.

How can she achieve stability when she's so infrequently satisfied? How can she carve out a profitable future for both herself and her child? What's the safest route? What's the smartest track? What's the most promising course?

And that's when, without even meaning to, she thinks of the one place she's been avoiding all along.

Starfleet.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>_Full circle, huh? Please do me the kindest favor by satisfying my selfish need for comments, reviews, and criticism. It helps my inspiration._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Sunday – July 5th – 10 a.m.**

**Dwight Christian Assembly **

Jim has been sitting in the back the whole service. Eleanora hadn't pressured her to sit in their usual row. From back here she feels less exposed. Plus the angle allowed her to keep the congregation within her sight. She can watch the way they lift their hands during praise and worship, closing their eyes as their mouths move in a silent prayer. She wonders how they can do it. How can they believe? How do they maintain their faith?

She exhales, if only to shake off the compression she feels spinning tightly around her lungs like a thick rope. She's drowning in her own silence, in fear, and in anticipation for the future. Now that she's accepted the reality of her pregnancy, all she feels is vulnerable and exposed and clueless. Her mind keeps ticking away like clockwork, trying to make sense of things, trying to understand.

Jim has her doubts—she always has her doubts. She wonders over God and the universe and divine plans and fates. She wonders what her role in all of it is. She's exhausted and sad and lost. She feels so full—like every atom of her body wants to break apart and scatter to the winds. She feels concealed—trapped inside of herself without a way out. She has the burden of a heavy heart thumping to the beat of her anxiety; stirring the teeth of her ribcage.

"Before we begin," Reverend Nolan says as the praise and worship arc of service winds down. "My lovely wife would like to share a word with the congregation." He motions to her and she takes his place at the altar beside the glass podium.

Janelle Dwight is a brown-skinned woman with full lips, an hourglass figure and a thick mane of short curly hair. She's dressed in an olive suit and the big wedding ring on her hand gleams when she lifts the mic with a smile. She takes a moment to survey the room, as though she's searching for something. "I need ya'll to lift your hands for me and pray in your heavenly language," she instructs.

The congregation breaks out in incoherent murmurs of prayers.

Janelle starts speaking in tongues as she paces the altar. "I just feel on my heart, so heavy, that there is someone here who needs a breakthrough," she says.

Some people clap and lift their hands.

Jim frowns and shifts in her seat.

Janelle lifts a hand to the congregation as her brow furrows in serious thought. "I don't think ya'll heard me. I said someone needs a breakthrough today," she repeats and smiles slightly as everybody begins to clap and make exclamations. "I feel God puttin' that on my heart so strong. Somebody is hurtin'. Somebody is confused. Somebody is lost. And this ain't no altar call cause I realize that a lot of the time we get to a place where we feel vulnerable. We don't want nobody to know our struggles and what we goin' through. So if what I'm sayin' is reachin' you, then I just want you stand. I want everyone to stand."

Jim crosses her arms and hunches down in her seat as everyone stands. She refuses to acknowledge that Janelle might be talking about her or referencing to her. How would she know anyway? She couldn't.

Janelle goes on to say, "I want ya'll to keep prayin'. I feel God in this place right now, I feel Him so strong. I want us to utilize His presence. Let's petition Him. Let's call upon Him. I want ya'll to start to intercede, just begin to pray and cry out with everythin' in you. I want a breakthrough. I don't know about you but I want a breakthrough for myself. If you tired of goin' through—"

There's a simultaneous shout of agreement and hand claps.

"—if you tired of bein' tired, I just want you cry out. Because somethin' is going to break today," Janelle declares as she pats her stomach and shakes her head. "Oh Lord, yes, I feel this. I need ya'll with me because the word of God says that where there are two or three assembled together in His name, He will be in the midst and whatsoever we touch and agree on shall come to pass. So touch and agree with me."

Everyone claps and begins to pray fervently.

Jim feels something inside her tremble, something that she can't explain. She feels the exclamations and the prayers and the clapping reverberate through the room and ghost over her. She exhales as she tries to comprehend the sensation but something inside of her twitches and she feels even more exposed. This is stupid. All of it is stupid. She just wants to go home and go to sleep.

"My God, my God. I truly feel the glory today. Listen, can we praise a little more today? I know we have a set schedule and I know we ended worship already but I just feel sometimes it's not for us to follow a routine and control and stay in tradition. Let's break out of that because I would rather move how He would have me move," Janelle says as she paces and she takes a moment to jump up and down and shout out a hallelujah. "My God, my God. I can't be the only that is stirred. I'm stirred up in my spirit. Choir, I need you to help me sing. Band I need you to play and I want you to flow. I need you to flow with me."

The musicians get up and return to their designated instruments as the choir returns to the altar and stands behind Janelle.

Janelle paces the altar with a hand pressed to her stomach and her brow furrowed as though she's listening and feeling for a vibe. She pauses as she lifts the mic to her lips, "I have this song I want to sing. It's called, _Don't Let Me Fall._" She makes a motion to the musicians before she starts to sing.

Jim stands because she feels so compelled to and she follows the lyrics closely and they just stupefy her because they hit something deep and fragile inside of her.

Janelle closes her eyes as she lifts her voice and sings so beautifully that is causes tears to well up in Jim's eyes. Before she can even make sense of why, she's full on sobbing and breaking down in tears.

The elderly women around Jim begin to try and console her as they continually give thanks to God.

Jim almost wants to laugh through her tears because this is so out of her depth that it's unreal. Here she is, sobbing like a baby because Janelle's song is making her tremble on the inside. It's as if Jim can feel her soul swimming and lurching on the internally and it's unfeasible because she's never had a spiritual experience before and she can't confirm that she's having one now. All she knows is that Janelle is hitting the helplessly angry and desperately lost cords inside of her while the wall of ice around her heart begins to liquefy, lightening like a feather.

The choir sings as Janelle's reinforcement and she steps down from the altar and begins to come down the center aisle all the way to the back where Jim is.

Jim wants to shy away from the attention of the congregation as they all turn and watch her and Janelle with interest. But it's hard to be upset or shy when Janelle is looking at her with such warmth and love and understanding in her chocolate eyes. She slows down her singing as she grabs one of Jim's shaking hands and she pauses to says, "Choir, keep singin'. I want the band to keep playin'." She looks at Jim like she just knows her and she smiles gently. "Woman of God, I felt your heart from the very moment you walked in here on this day. I sense so much, and out of respect, I'm not gonna openly share anythin' other than what I am led to say. But know the Lord just wants me to tell you that you are loved. There comes a time in everyone's life when the trials are gonna come but God says that He has not given you the spirit of fear, but of love and a sound mind."

Jim's vision begins to blur because that's how thick her tears are. She can't even say how much Janelle's words are touching her or comforting her because it's all so strange. She's never experienced anything like this before. A weight is being lifted off of her in this moment and it's hard to say whether it's the compassion in Janelle's words or the actual work of God, but Jim can't find the time to care because the relief of it all is so achingly good.

Janelle goes on to say, "My God, my God. I need everyone to stretch out a hand in Ms. Kirk's direction and, in your own understanding, just begin to pray and bless her." She reaches out and lifts Jim's hands up in a sign of surrender before she takes the time to squeeze both hands. She takes a second to sing something unintelligible before she lowers the mic and leans closer to Jim. Quietly, she says, "Are you pregnant? I'm not tryin' to pry but that's just droppin' in my spirit so heavy."

Jim nods as she hiccups out a sob, amazed by Janelle's foreknowledge.

"Again, I wanna say that I ain't here to spread your business. I believe these types of circumstances require a certain grace and delicacy and I want you to know that you are not alone. You are blessed and highly favored in all that you do. The Lord wants me to tell you that the promise of your forefathers is strong in your bloodline and so therefore the labor of your hands and of your life shall always be fruitful. He says to trust and believe that He has a plan for you and your child and that so long as you live you shall never lack anythin' and your child will always be covered under the grace and protection of God, so rest assured. And you also have to forgive yourself as He has forgiven you. There is now no self-condemnation to those who come unto Christ with an open heart."

Jim sniffs and accepts the tissue someone hands her. She says, "I don't know if I believe. I'm sorry. This isn't my thing. I don't—don't usually—"

Janelle shushes her gently and says. "Free will has been gifted unto us so that we continually have the option of choice. Believe. Don't believe. It's always your choice. It's not expected of you to follow blindly but to consider with your heart what cannot be seen by the eyes. I'm not here to convert you but to offer to pray over you and your situation so that you may know that you don't have to always face adversity by yourself. May I pray for you?"

Jim sniffs again as she dries her cheeks and nods.

Janelle lifts the mic to her lips and says, "I need everyone to be in agreement with me as I pray." She goes on to say, "I speak peace over your heart and your soul. I speak resolution over your situation. I speak direction over your life and stability. My God, my God. I decree and declare that you will find satisfaction and contentment. I rebuke every word curse spoken over you and every bad intention aimed towards you. I rebuke that vagabond spirit that would have you travel from place to place with no fixed purpose, mission, or calling in life."

Jim closes her eyes as more tears begin to run down her cheeks—Janelle's words are hitting too close to home.

"I speak love over you," Janelle continues. "I speak the agape love of Christ over you and I forsake the spirit of rejection and abandonment. The word of God says that when your mother and father forsake, He shall receive you. So I declare the love and acceptance of a father over you and I ask that God bless and keep you. May He lift up his countenance and shine his face upon you. May His angels go forth before you and prepare the way. May the spirit of excellence rest upon you as it did on Daniel and David and Esther. May God open the eyes to your understanding and give you clarity to those things that which confounds you. May God open doors for you that no man can shut and shut those doors that no man can open. You are an overcomer, Ms. Kirk. You will always be blessed to prevail. Somebody give me a hand clap of praise because God says those things you've asked for in your heart, it's already done." She lowers the mic to give Jim a hug.

Jim returns the hug in genuine gratefulness and unexplainable wave of peace and tranquility washes over her.

Everyone claps as they watch the exchange with joyful expressions.

Janelle pulls back with a wide smile. "Listen, you come see me or you comm me if you ever need a willin' ear or someone to war in the spirit on your behalf or some intercessory prayer. Okay?" she urges as she rubs a hand up and down Jim's back.

Jim dabs at the corners of her eyes with the crumbled tissue in her hand. "I'll definitely keep that in mind. Thank you," she says hoarsely and clears her throat.

Janelle bats her hand. "It's nothin' really. You just stop stressin', okay? God's gonna work it all out for you. You just wait and see how it all comes together. Trust and believe."

Jim just shrugs because that's all she can do for now.

Janelle doesn't seem to mind. She just winks as she moves on and sings before she's compelled to pray for someone else.

Jim sighs as she watches and she feels even lighter when the weight of everyone's gaze lifts from her and turns elsewhere. She sniffs and grips the used and balled up piece of tissue in one hand as the other settles against her lower stomach where she senses the baby may be.

Church continues in the same sense and the atmosphere shifts tangibly as Janelle takes control of the service. She works her way through the congregation like a flaming sword, speaking and prophesying and praying as boldly as she wants to. She lays hands on some people and Jim watches with interest as those individuals fall out or shake as if they were possessed by something.

Jim's not going to lie and say she doesn't think it's amusing because she totally does, but out of respect she doesn't laugh outright. She just sits down and fans herself with one of the church fans as the choir sings soulfully against the complimentary melody of the musicians. For once, she doesn't mind that service drags on a little longer than usual. She wishes that Janelle were the one preaching every Sunday and not her husband because if she were then Jim would probably more interested in this whole Christianity thing.

At the end of it all, Janelle comes find her and they exchange comm links before Eleanora and Pauline comes and collects her. Neither of them says anything nor brings up what happened during service during the ride back to the house and for that Jim is grateful. She instead elects to concentrate on her continuing good mood as the three of them enter the house.

Eleanora tucks away in the kitchen to prepare something in hopes that Jim will be able to stomach it.

Pauline settles down in the living room with her communicator so that she can do her weekly check-up of her kids.

Jim just wanders up to her room and flops down on her bed with a bible she found. She's curious to understand what all the fuss is about. She ultimately only makes it three pages in before she falls asleep. When Pauline gently shakes her awake for dinner, her left cheek feels warm where she imagines there must be indentions of the book in her skin. She rubs at it as she sits up and yawns before she drags herself out of the room and down to the kitchen.

Eleanora serves her a plate of buttery mashed potatoes, sautéed strip steak, and mixed vegetables.

Jim leapfrogs her fork across the plate going from one thing to the other in a random order. Then she chases it all down with some ginger tea before she leaves to hideaway in her room again. She makes another try at reading again but once more, she only makes it six pages in before she falls asleep on the story of Noah.

She dreams that she's tying one end of a long strand of red ribbon to her wrist before tying the other end to Bones's, and that no matter what happens, that connection never severs.

888

**Tuesday – July 7th – Noon**

Jim goes to her first prenatal appointment with Dr. Yolanda Becker. After a few basic physical tests, and after Dr. Becker briefly discusses what she should expect in the oncoming weeks (physically and emotionally), she sits on the edge of the biobed in a private room. Her bio-readings are humming on the monitors behind her while Dr. Becker looks at her virtual file.

"Everything aside, how are you feelin' now?" Dr. Becker asks.

"Okay, I guess," Jim admits. "It took a bit to come to terms with everything but, I've found away and I'm still processing."

"But you're getting there. And you will get there," Dr. Becker offers with a reassuring grin. "This can be said of all mothers, sugah. Trust me, you ain't the first and certainly not the last."

Jim nods and lowers her gaze as she touches a hand to her stomach absentmindedly.

"Now, I'm not tryin' to get personal but, does the father know?" Dr. Becker asks.

Jim lifts her gaze and feels a small twinge of sadness. "Yeah. He knows."

Dr. Becker considers that quietly before she sits down on a stool in front of Jim. She says, "Women are strong, I know. We can weather any storm. We've got the whole universe inside of us. But in sayin' that, I don't think it's such a stretch to say that we ain't gotta do it all by ourselves. And you ain't gotta go through this alone either. If he's willin' to be there with you and for you, then I say let him."

"I would, I mean—I will. Just," Jim pauses as she tries to find the right words. "It's complicated right now. We're kind of not seeing eye to eye."

Dr. Becker chuckles softly. "And child, let me tell you, now that you got a baby between you, that's gonna happen more often than you think. The important thing is to keep open that link of communication. Don't let the sun set on your anger," she advises. She then pulls a stylus pen from the chest pocket of her lab coat and she scribbles against the transparent screen of her virtual file. "I'm writin' you a prescription for prenatal vitamins. The doses will be in hypos. You only need to take them once a month for about seven months, and after that, you'll be taking them each week, up until your due date."

"Okay," Jim says.

"And I'm sure I already mentioned that you need to try and eat as much as possible because you're underweight. I'm gonna prescribe you somethin' that'll help with the nausea and build your appetite. It's almost somethin' of the same thing I give to the patients of mine who suffer from vertigo. And I double-checked cause I know you got all them allergies, but it should be fine. You contact me right away if it's anythin' but."

Jim nods as she stands.

"I'll see you and the little angel in two weeks on the 22nd," Dr. Becker decides as she makes a note of it in Jim's file. She stands too and shakes Jim's hand. "I'll confirm the gender for you by then."

Jim pulls on her leather jacket and leaves the room. She freezes when she sees Bones at the end of the hall, hunched down so that he can be eye to eye with a little girl in a wheel chair who is attached to an oxygen tank, but despite that, she is looking up at him with pink cheeks and an adoring smile. The little girl's parents are standing there with smiles as well.

Bones reveals a stuffed aquamarine bunny from behind him and he touches a hand to her shoulder as she makes an excited sound and hugs it to her chest. His face softens with a grin as she squeezes the bunny to her chest and it looks like she's thanking him profusely for it.

Jim feels her lips twist into a smile at the sight and she drops her gaze before turning away. She heads to the front area of the clinic, says her goodbyes to some of the nurses (including Asiyah) before she fishes her keys out of her pocket. When she exits the clinic, she straddles her bike, revs the engine and drives off to find the closest pharmacy so she can fill her prescription.

The pharmacist, a short, white haired elderly woman by the name of Madeline Jones (grandmother of Nicki Jones) tells her it'll be a good ten minutes before her prescription is ready.

So, in the meantime, Jim strolls the aisles, looking at different things like shampoos and granola bars and house cleaners. She's not so much shopping as she is biding her time, and eventually she ends up in the kid's section where there is a collection of cheap toys on display. She picks up a boxed baby doll and when she pokes it, it cries 'mama'. Jim snorts at the irony and she pauses when she hears two voices talking in the next aisle over.

"—_such a shame._"

"_Poor darlin'—who could imagine a thing like that happenin'?"_

_"Tragic, really. Makes you feel blessed. Reminds you to be grateful."_

_"Oh, but ain't I just? And to be so young and have such a misfortune befall."_

Jim frowns. She's really trying not to ear hustle but it's a small town and these two women could be talking about someone she knows.

"_Everyone's down at the hospital now._"

"_Reckon we should make our way too, just to pay our respect and all._"

"_But what to bring? I confess I've not much experience with these dealings._"

Jim drops the baby doll back to its original spot before she makes her way around to the next aisle. "I'm sorry," she says as she reaches the two older women. "I couldn't help but to overhear. I, um—who is it you're talking about?"

"Why, Diane Treadway," the woman on the left answers.

The woman on the right narrows her eyes and says, "You look familiar. Are you a friend of hers?"

Jim nods.

"Well, then," the woman on the right says. "It pains me to be the one to have to tell you this, but she went into premature labor last night. Clay had to rush her to the emergency room because there was just so much blood."

"Heard they did all they could but they were just about to lose the both of them. In the end, well, that little baby died," the woman on the left adds. "Word's just spreadin' about it now and everybody and their third cousin's gone up to the hospital to offer their condolences."

Jim feels her stomach bottom out and quiver at the news. She presses a hand to her gut as she struggles to take in that information.

"I reckon you best get over there quick too," the woman on the right supposes.

The woman on the left nods in agreement. "Poor dear could use all the support she can get."

Jim watches helplessly as the women go about their way. She only snaps out of it when she hears her name being blared over the PA system, alerting her that her prescriptions are ready to be picked up. She goes and pays for it before she carries that white paper bag out to her bike. She straddles it and stares as she tries to process her thoughts.

In the end, she ends up driving to the Bayview Hospital on the other side of town. She goes to the reception area and asks a nurse for Dixie's room number. A few minutes later, she's striding down the fifth floor towards room 515, and it's easy to see that this is where she's at because there are all sorts of friends and family posted outside the room with flowers and bears and candles. She doesn't see Jocelyn or Joanna or Bones but she bets that they'll be on their way soon.

Jim locates a teary-eyed Clay and she pulls him into a hug. "I'm so sorry. I heard about what happened," she says in a miserable tone.

Clay hiccups out a sob as he pulls back. "I—I just don't understand how somethin' like this can happen, you know. And Dixie—she's _devastated_. I can't—she's a wreck and blamin' herself."

Jim rubs his arm. "Is it okay if I go in to see her?"

"Please do," Clay replies before he returns to Barbara Treadway's side.

Jim enters the room. It's dark because the blinds and the curtains are drawn.

Dixie is standing in her hospital gown, hands gripping the edge of the glass encasing a small bed clearly meant for an infant. It's empty, but Dixie is staring down at it as though she can still see a reminiscent of her child.

Jim's heart twists painfully and her stomach lurches in sympathy. She almost feels guilty for pressing a hand to her lower abdomen where her own child is, still nestled under muscle and tissue, safe and _alive_.

"They wouldn't let me hold him," Dixie rasps quietly. "I didn't even get to hold him before they took him."

Jim comes closer and rests a hand on Dixie's shoulder but she shakes her head and shies away from the touch with a distant look in her eyes.

"He wasn't breathin'—he didn't even cry. He was purple," Dixie continues as she cocks her head as she chews at her fingernails. "Wasn't breathin'. Purple. He was mine. _Mine _and they took him before I could hold him. Before I could tell him that everythin' would be okay. Momma's here. Everything's okay. Momma's here. Momma's _here_."

Jim's eyes grow hot and she presses a hand to her trembling mouth.

"He wasn't breathin' and they took him to bring him back but I didn't get to hold him. If they let me hold him," Dixie rambles as she reaches down and grips the small baby blanket left behind in the bed. "I got all this milk," she says as she touches a hand to her chest. "And I ain't got no one to give it to."

"Dixie," Jim says hoarsely. "I am _so _sorry. Please believe that."

Dixie picks up the blanket and presses it to her chapped lips just as a couple of male nurses come in.

"Mrs. Kalakona, you need to settle back in bed again," one of the male nurses says as he guides her to the biobed. "The doctor will be here in a moment to give you those antibiotics."

Dixie just mutters into the fleece fabric of the blanket as she climbs onto the biobed robotically and curls up into the fetal position.

Jim swallows against the twinge of deep sympathy that stabs into her heart.

"I'm sorry," the other male nurse says as he approaches Jim. "I'm gonna have to ask you to leave so she can rest. It's been—very tryin'."

Jim nods in understanding before she exits the room. She avoids looking at anyone directly as she walks towards the elevators. She barely has enough time to press the call button before a shadow falls beside her.

"Ms. Kirk." It's Chadwick. "Have you been thinkin' about what I said? You been awfully quiet."

"Jesus Christ," Jim hisses, glaring at him with red eyes. "Your fucking sister just went through—you know what? I don't even know why I'm wasting my time." She climbs on the elevator.

Chadwick just shoves his hands in the pockets of his slacks and continues to look indifferent. "It's awful what happened. But it didn't happen to me so I don't know what you want me to say. If it was our kid then of course I would be in pieces," he says.

Jim shakes her head with an angry smile. "Do me a favor. Fuck off." She stabs her finger into the lobby button and is all too happy to watch the doors close on Chadwick's frustrated face. She exhales a shuddering breath as the elevator lowers and she uses the tips of her fingers to swipe away her tears.

Eleanora and Pauline cross paths with her just as she's walking through the sliding doors.

Pauline says, "How's it lookin' up there?"

"Not good," Jim says. "Not good at all."

"It's such a shame," Eleanora quietly comments. "Things like this rip my heart to ribbons."

Pauline touches her hand to Eleanora's elbow and Eleanora covers that hand with her own with a grateful look.

"Well, I was just headed home. I don't think they're letting anymore visitors in to see Dixie but mostly all of her friends and family are up there," Jim confirms, trying to be helpful in some way.

Eleanora nods as she studies Jim. "How are you? I know this hits close to home, all things considered."

Jim just shrugs and shakes her head. "I'm trying not to let it get to me like that or think about if I was in her shoes because—" She stops suddenly because she can't even continue. "I just really need to get back to the house."

Paulina pats her cheek with friendly understanding. "You go rest and don't let the survivor's guilt suffocate you."

"Dixie is strong," Eleanora adds. "She'll work through it, God willin'. Just pray for her."

Jim nods with a weak smile before it slowly fades. She hugs Eleanora and Pauline before she wanders outside to find her bike. She straddles it when she does and drives off. At first, she intends to go back to the house, but she changes her mind because after this little bomb, well, she doesn't exactly feel up to being alone. Which is why she pulls up to Florence's apartment complex and treks up to her front door.

Florence welcomes her in without a word. She locks the door behind her and fetches Jim a glass of water when asked.

Jim settles down on Florence's bed, picking up the metal slinky that's on the ground and plays with it.

Florence sits down beside her as she passes over an icy cup of water.

Jim takes it gratefully as she sets down the slinky to reach in the white paper bag in her lap to take the oral medication.

Florence watches her and says, "You eat yet, Blue? You hungry?"

Jim shrugs because she's not really, which is why she's taking this medicine.

"How about some takeout?" Florence says as she stands again and goes hunting for some menus.

Jim fingers the rim of her cup. "Dixie lost—"

"I know," Florence interjects, back turned to Jim as she fishes through her kitchen drawers.

Jim can't tell what she's thinking. "Have you gone to see her?"

"Can't," Florence grunts. "Hospitals freak me out. Never liked them."

Jim is certain there's a story there. Something to do with her sordid past. She wants to ask but she knows that will only end up turning into an argument. So she just lifts her cup of water to her mouth and drinks the rest of it down.

Florence makes a triumphant sound before she returns to the bed with a menu. "How about some Thai? This place here has the best vegetable stir fry I ever ate," she claims. "Gimme your communicator."

"Why do you need mine?" Jim asks just to be difficult.

"On account of I don't got my own," Florence says with a huff. "Now hand it over."

Jim does.

Florence orders practically everything off the menu before she kills the connection and tosses the menu in the direction of the coffee table. "So how you been?" she asks before she lowers herself to her knees and presses a hand to Jim's stomach. "How's my favorite little bean?"

Jim smiles slightly and slaps her hands away. "We're both fine," she assures. "Thank God."

"God, ey? Never pegged you as spiritual, Blue," Florence remarks as she leans against the edge of her bed and rests her head in her propped hand.

"I'm not," Jim admits. "But, with this pregnancy, I'm not so against the concept. I've been figuring things out. I even read the bible sometimes, you know, for pure scholarly interest that is."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I've been praying too."

"Praying?" Florence echoes with a strange kind of smile. "How so?"

"In the mornings before I start my day. And sometimes before I go to bed. I'm doing it as an experiment. Nothing too serious. Plus I like the way it makes me…" Jim trails off as she tries to find the right words. "It's peaceful. Like meditation. It helps I think."

"Well I'm not knocking it. I do a good little prayer once and a while. When I think it matters," Florence supposes as she ruffles her red hair and tongues at her lip piercing. "I like God just fine. Me and Him? We got an understanding, you know?"

Jim nods and yawns without meaning to.

"Uh oh. Someone's tired," Florence notes. "You and the little bean rest up. I'll wake you two up when the food's here."

Jim thinks about foregoing a nap but in the end she decides it might be better to just rest. She can't say that her visit with Dixie is causing her to be extra cautious, but it's certainly compelling her to be a lot more mindful of herself and the baby. So she crawls to the middle of the bed, collecting several pillows as she goes, before she curls them around her and settles on her side.

Florence grabs a wool-knit blanket and throws it over Jim before she wanders over to her couch and turns on her TV. She flicks through a few channels before she settles on a Family Feud marathon (her favorite show).

"I ran into Chadwick at the hospital," Jim murmurs as she rocks her foot over the edge of the bed. "Well, I should say that he tried to corner me."

"Brought up that marriage shit while his sister was going through?" Florence sounds appalled. "That asshole really needs his block knocked off."

Jim chuckles as she hugs a pillow closer. "I couldn't agree more."

Florence hums distractedly and that's the end of the conversation.

Jim falls asleep and she dreams that she's in a room full of coffins the size of shoeboxes. She's shaken awake by Florence who says that she's been crying in her sleep and trembling.

After Florence retrieves her some tissue and another glass of water, she goes to answer her door when there comes a knock. She lets the deliveryman in and he sets up all the food on Florence's small coffee table. She pays for the food and gives a sizeable tip that the deliveryman thanks her profusely for as he exits out the door. Florence locks it behind him before she goes back to the living room.

Jim drains her glass of the water as she throws her used tissue away and joins Florence on the couch. Between the two of them, they polish off at least several dishes while they pick opposing teams during each episode of Family Feud.

Florence has this thing about picking the families she thinks are secretly fucked up and Jim can't do anything but laugh at her for it.

"Do you want to spend the night?" Florence asks as she notices how dark it's getting.

"Yeah, I guess. I don't have anywhere to be tomorrow," Jim supposes. Allison had canceled on her anyway, so she was free for the night. She hiccups before she burps.

Florence snorts. "You're so cute. This is a real burp." She swallows several times before she gives a disgusting belch that sounds like a mixed between a dying pig and a sobbing whale.

Jim scrunches her nose as she laughs. "Okay, you win," she promises as she leans back with a content sigh. She presses a hand to her full stomach, all too glad that she doesn't have the urge to regurgitate all the food she just ate. She does wince a little when her bra brushes her boobs the wrong way. She lifts her hands and cups her breasts with a face.

"What? What's the matter? Are you lactating?" Florence jokes and ducks back when Jim takes a swing at her.

"No, you ass," Jim huffs as she goes right back to groping her chest. "My fucking boobs are like tender and sore." She gently prods around her nipple.

"I think that's normal, right?"

"Yeah. I went to go see my doctor today and she told me that things like this would be a regular occurrence. Among other things," Jim mutters as she continues to poke at her breasts. "Did you know I'll actually be so full of milk I'll leak and wont that be mortifying?"

"I think they got all kinds of preggo bras that can counter that," Florence offers before she turns her attention back to the TV. "So you saw Bones today?"

"No. Not like that anyway."

"He your doctor, ain't he?"

"_One _of my doctors," Jim corrects and frowns.

"You two still fighting?"

Jim shrugs.

Florence just shakes her head sadly. "So how's the pageant going so far?"

"Meh." Jim shrugs again, even though Florence isn't paying attention to her. "This weekend we're going out to Albany County for this veteran's thing. I still haven't picked a talent I'm going to perform."

"It'll come to you I'm sure," Florence guarantees distractedly.

Jim hums before she folds her legs under her and leans against the back of the couch.

She falls asleep again.

888

**Thursday – July 9th – 5 p.m.**

Jim's holed up in a study room with Allison Loftus. She's strumming a few keys on the acoustic guitar they borrowed from the Youth Area of the library while Allison is taking a mock test on Jim's PADD. Jim has always been a quick learner, so she'd picked up on what Allison taught pretty proficiently. Allison had been impressed and Jim assured her that she still would her help earn her GED even though Jim wouldn't need to be tutored anymore.

Allison makes a frustrated sound as she slams her hands onto the table. "This is hopeless, Jim," she exclaims. "I'm never goin' pass any kind of test, let alone learn anythin'. And I know you mean well but maybe I'm not teachable. All that information just falls right out of my head!"

Jim stands and walks over with the guitar. She leans against the edge of the table as she looks down at Allison. "If you can teach me, then you can be taught," she promises. "Just stop thinking for a moment."

"Shouldn't be too hard. Nothing's ever up there anyway," Allison mumbles and mopes.

Jim frowns and she says, "We just need to find an approach that works on you." She pauses to think before it comes to her. "Allison, you love music more than anything right?"

Allison nods with a perplexed expression.

"What if we rewrote everything you have to learn and turned it into a song?" Jim suggests. "Here, listen to this." She begins to play the guitar as she recites the Pythagorean theorem in a pathetic attempt to sing.

Allison's face twists as she fights against a smile but she ends up laughing.

Jim grins and hops on her feet and begins to waltz around Allison as she continues to sing in algebra facts. She sings (horridly) for the next ten minutes before she stops and points right at Allison. "Now what did I just say?" she asks.

Allison hesitates and her brow furrows as she thinks. "A over C plus B over C equals A plus B over C?"

Jim claps her hands together and says, "Correct! What else?"

"If A is less than B then A plus C is less than B plus C and A minus C is less than B minus C and oh my God I remembered all of that and it makes sense!" Allison hops to her feet and takes a moment to do a little giddy dance. "Oh my God, it worked!"

Jim laughs proudly. "See? You are so capable of learning if you put your mind to it. Now. Let's focus on something else. Like Earth history." She begins to strum away on the guitar as she sings about all the main world wars, human evolution, rebellions, revolutions and so on.

Allison recites everything back perfectly and she looks so very delighted to be able to do so.

Their study session goes over its usual time but neither Jim nor Allison notice until one of the librarians warn them that the library is closing. She returns the guitar and they exit the library together.

"You made a lot of progress today," Jim compliments as they stroll towards the parking lot.

"You think so?"

"No doubt about it," Jim reassures. She smiles. "I bet you'll be ready to take that test by the end of this month."

"Oh that would be lovely." Allison sighs pleasantly as they come to her car. She turns to face Jim. "You ready for this weekend?"

Jim makes a face and shrugs.

Allison chuckles. "I know. I feel the same. I mean, a whole weekend with those horrible girls," she remarks as she thinks on it. "Have you decided on a talent you're gonna do, if you don't mind my bein' nosy?"

"No, it's fine," Jim says with another shrug. "Honestly, I still haven't worked that out for myself. It's not like I can take a white board up there and solve some of my favorite equations or recite the speech Alexander the Great gave at the Hydaspes River in India."

Allison blinks and says, "Guess not." She takes a moment to think. "Well, why don't you play the guitar? I mean, I taught you how to, so you might as well utilize it, right?"

Jim's mouth dips thoughtfully as she considers it. "Yeah, I could. But what else? You've heard my singing. That's definitely out of the question."

Allison laughs. "I don't know, Jim. You'll figure it out. You're smart and you seem to always find a way." She gives Jim a quick hug before she climbs into her car and drives off with a wave.

Jim finds her way to her bike and she straddles it, taking a moment to rev the engine before she drives off and heads back to the house.

The house is dark and quiet when she enters, and she quietly locks the door behind her. She then goes up to her room to hang up her jacket and take her medication before she ventures down to the kitchen with her PADD where she makes herself a big bowl of instant macaroni and tuna.

Jim takes the warm ceramic bowl (along with her PADD) out to the back patio and she curls up on the porch swing with it. She has one leg folded under her while the other hangs over the edge so she can use her bare foot to push against the floorboards to get the swing to sway back and forth gently. She hums to herself as she shoves spoonful after spoonful of gooey cheesy pasta and tuna goodness into her mouth.

In the distance, an owl makes a continuous loud call as the crickets chirp away up in the apple trees. It's a peacefully quiet night and Jim feels content with it. She smiles around her spoon as she swallows and tries to make out the stars in the sky over the top of the apple trees and between the clouds. She continues to swing as she empties out her bowl and sets it beside her.

Jim grabs her PADD and does something that is completely her, which is reading up on Los Angeles and San Francisco gang culture from the 21st century. It's a peculiar thing for her to do but she likes reading peculiar things. She leans back as the swing sways and she reads as the cool night air threads around her body while she presses a hand to her lower stomach.

Midnight reaches inside of her and causes her to yawn. She rubs at her eyes tiredly before she shuts off her PADD, carrying it inside with her. She puts her empty bowl in the sink and treks up to her room. Changing out of her clothes and into some sleepwear, she ventures into her bathroom to brush her teeth and she feels her stomach twist a little as she takes the moment to think about Bones.

She misses him.

Jim spits and sighs before she rinses out her mouth and spits again. She flicks off the light and wanders to her bed, climbing in with another tired sigh. She drags one of her many pillows over and hugs it to her chest as she curls up on her side, facing the opens windows. She ducks her head down and presses her mouth to the top of the pillow as her hand rests on her lower stomach. She closes her eyes and her mouth moves wordlessly against the cool fabric.

Jim falls asleep with Bones wrapped up in her thoughts and prayers.

888

**Friday – July 10th – Noon**

Just because Jim has found peace doesn't mean she can't be annoyed.

She is heavily annoyed.

For one, she's been stuck on this luxury bus with eighteen other girls who wont stop gossiping and arguing and whining. Secondly, it's hotter than hell and the bus's air conditioner is broke. Thirdly, none of this is helping with her growing migraine. Lastly, Allison, bless her sweet heart, wont stop talking and all Jim wants to do is fall asleep.

This three-hour drive to Albany County for the weekend retreat is pure torture and it's only been an hour and a half so far.

Jim almost wishes she would have gotten on the other bus with the mothers but how could she have known that it was going to be anything like this?

Hazel Becker shrieks when Serene McCoy spits in her face and some of the girls have to jump up and separate them when Hazel tackles Serene into the middle aisle.

Jim sighs and fishes for her PADD, pulling up her music library before she syncs her wireless headphones with it. She puts on her large cherry red DJ headphones and adjusts it to her head before she closes her eyes with a smile because she has successfully drowned out all the drama. She shifts and pulls her knees up so she can lean against the cool window and lets the bus rock her to sleep.

Allison shakes her awake when they arrive at the plaza hotel and Jim climbs off the bus with the other girls and attempts to grab her luggage.

Pauline and Eleanora find her and fuss, claiming that they can help and that Jim shouldn't strain herself.

Jim openly rolls her eyes and shoves her PADD under her arm while she follows them inside. She glances around the lobby and can't help but to admire how fancy the hotel is. She's never stayed in a swanky place like this before. It's a treat.

Jocelyn snaps her fingers to draw everyone's attention. "Ladies, you can decide amongst yourselves who you would like to room with. Everyone has to have at least two other roommates," she clarifies. "Feel free to explore the metropolitan area but be safe and smart. You have a curfew of midnight and remember that tomorrow we'll be going to visit the East Bay Children's Hospital to do a bit of community service and then Sunday you'll be dressing in your designated uniforms and showcasing your talents during the Fallen Heroes Festival. Understood?"

There's a simultaneous sound of 'yes' and Jocelyn nods in satisfaction before she joins the other judges at the front desk to begin handing out the room keys.

Jim leaves Eleanora and Pauline's side to quickly snag Serene and Allison as her roomies. Luckily, they're just as agreeable to this arrangement and together they collect their room keys before they trek to the elevators.

Their room is located on the thirteenth floor and it just so happens to be a luxury suite with a Jacuzzi tub, three plush king-sized beds with Egyptian cotton sheets, a living room complete with plush furnishings, and a killer view of the metropolitan area.

Serene climbs on her bed and begins to jump up and down but other than that she doesn't seem to be impressed with anything else.

Jim grins amusedly as she walks to the mini-fridge, grabbing herself a bottle of soda.

Allison is digging through her hot pink luggage. She says, "Okay. So the other girls were talkin' about grabbin' a shuttle bus and goin' down to Pleasure Island."

"Pleasure Island?" Serene pants as she continues to jump. "What the hell is that?"

"Apparently it's like party central and this weekend they're supposed to have like all kinds of events and activities goin' on. I heard it's wicked fun," Allison explains. "So what do you guys say? You in?"

Jim nods, even though she is a bit tired.

"I'm down," Serene decides as she hops off the bed. "Lemme find somethin' absolutely filthy to wear. I wanna get laid tonight."

Allison's face twists disapprovingly. "I don't feel like that's safe," she says.

Serene shrugs as she fishes through her bags for a pair of skinny jeans and a see through yoke colored chiffon blouse and a dark blue lace bra that would be easily spotted under it.

Jim finishes her bottle of soda before she looks for a change of clothes herself. She puts on a one-shouldered, coral blue, animal print bandage dress with a pair of candy pink pumps.

Allison changes into an aquamarine blouse pair tucked into a pair of high-waist, black and white, abstract print leggings with some silver heels.

They help each other with their makeup and hair before they spritz themselves down with enticing perfume. They exit the hotel and climb into a shuttle bus with some of the other girls and drive down to Pleasure Island, which isn't so much an _actual_ island as it is a village comprised of clubs and restaurants and casinos.

Jim has a moment of silence for all the liquor she wont be able to drink tonight before she sucks it up and follow Allison and Serene in the Tajmahal buffet where they gorge themselves on the best Indian cuisine that Jim's ever tasted. After that, they just bounce around the village and Jim enjoys herself as best as she can while at the same time acting as a chaperone for both a tipsy Allison and Serene.

Somewhere between the magic shows and the table of black jacks and the techno clubs, Jim and Allison accidently lose Serene. And from there on in, it just becomes about hunting down the wily McCoy female. So Jim and Allison go up and down area, bothering people and tracking down Serene. Oddly (hilariously) enough, they find her in one of those entertainment clubs, in the midst of a Drag Queen contest, making out with a Vulcan female by the name of T'Para.

And Jim thought _she _was sexually ambitious.

Allison passes out on the shuttle bus back to the hotel and Serene snickers evilly as she draws a dick on her cheek with a permanent marker.

Jim means to stop and scold her but she's too busy laughing because that is the most accurate sketch of a dick she's ever seen.

The shuttle bus jolts to a stop and Serene slaps Allison awake before all of them pile out of the bus with some of the other girls.

Serene and Jim carry Allison up to their suite because she can't walk on her own and they drop her down on her bed when they get there. She passes right out and snores loudly.

Jim kicks off her pumps because her feet are achingly swollen.

Serene strips down until she's completely naked before she dives under her covers.

Somehow Jim isn't surprised at all. She snorts and tucks away in the bathroom to take a nice, long and hot bath in the Jacuzzi tub. She strips down and climbs in when the water is the right temperature and she lets herself soak in it as she plays with the bubble suds. By the time she climbs out, she's squeaky clean but her skin is pink.

After she climbs into some sleepwear, she crawls into bed and practically moans at the soft and plushness of it. She rolls around a bit in the cool sheets before she settles on her side with her hand tucked into the band of her pajama bottoms and over her lower stomach.

Jim falls asleep with Bones wrapped up in her thoughts and prayers.

888

**Saturday – July 11th – 2 p.m.**

**East Bay Children's Hospital**

The type of community service they do is a lot simpler than what Jim thought it would be. She was sure that they'd be doing something like scrubbing floors or ironing laundry. But her problem is that she's been watching too many prison movies so that's why she originally thought this.

What Jocelyn and the other judges have them do is to pick out a compassion task from a fish bowl as a sort of charity raffle.

Jim gets '_read fairytales_' and pretty soon she's being led to the trauma ward where she sits at the head of a group of amputee children and reads a variety of books. She enjoys the time she spends with them and she has to fight back tears at the pure optimism and good-natured spirits of these children. It puts a few things in perspective for Jim and once more she's reminded how fortunate she is.

The kids like her and she barely even notices when Jocelyn and the judges pay a visit to watch her interactions with the children. She's too busy reenacting the scene between Jack and the Giant upon their first initial meeting.

The kids are giggling delightedly as Jim channels the fierceness of a giant and the meekness of a simple farm boy.

Jocelyn and the judges move on to the next girl but Jim is still hardly paying any attention to that. By the end of the story, she gives a dramatic bow as she's applauded and cheered.

"I have an idea," Jim says as she motions to one of the supervising nurses. "How about each one of you make your own fairytale?"

The kids cheer agreeably to that idea.

"Can we get some paper and some markers?" Jim asks the nurse and the nurse nods, scurrying off to retrieve the items. When the nurse returns, Jim helps her pass it out to each of the kids.

The kids spread themselves across the floor, chatting excitedly amongst themselves as they doodle and draw and write out their creative fairytales.

Jim smiles as she goes from child to child, asking them questions here and there. But then she comes to eleven-year-old boy with short black curly hair who isn't trying to participate at all, yet she notices that his right hand is actually prosthetic. She asks, very delicately, "What's your name?"

"Wallace," he mumbles shyly. "Wallace Mitchell."

"Nice to meet you, Wallace. My name is Jim Kirk."

Wallace stares up at her with curious green eyes but he doesn't say anything.

"Would you like some help?" Jim offers with a friendly smile. "I'm a pretty good ghost writer."

Wallace still doesn't say anything.

Jim decides on a different approach. She sits down across from him and folds her legs under her. "Wallace, what's the coolest thing about you?"

Wallace blinks and he shifts slightly as he folds his legs under him as well. "Coolest thing?" he repeats in slight confusion. He glances down at his prosthetic hand sadly. "There's nothing cool about me at all."

"I'm sure that's not true," Jim debates cheerfully, even though she wants to cry at the totally defeated tone of his voice. "You just have to dig down _real _deep and think _really _hard."

Wallace frowns but he seems to be thinking. He reaches up with his real hand and tugs at the curls licking at the base of her skull. "Well," he starts. "I know how to sing, and I'm kinda good at it."

"Kinda?" Jim challenges, just to see what he'll do.

Wallace straightens his posture and, with a little more confidence, claims, "I'm excellent. I'm an excellent singer."

Jim gives him the thumbs-up. She says, "Well why don't we do a fairytale about singing? I'm sure the others would be interested in hearing it. I'll help if you want."

Wallace smiles timidly, and he's a little handsome devil so it melts Jim's heart. He says, "Thanks, Jim, but I can do it. I've been teaching myself to right with my left hand so this is just more practice." He picks up a marker with his left hand and begins to write out his story as best as he can.

Jim grins a bit before her gaze turns to the other children.

Pretty soon there are a gang of nurses filtering in the room for the midday snack, handing them out to the kids before they move on with their treat carts.

Jim's stomach grumbles as the sweetly smell of those snacks reaches her and she carefully gathers to her feet, asking the supervising nurse where there are some vending machines and when she's told she tells the nurse that she'll be right back. She exits the ward and treks down the hall to the small vending machine sit-down area located around the corner at the end of the hall.

Luckily, it's completely deserted.

Jim goes from machine to machine, just observing the contents of them before she quietly says, "Alright, Jellybean—what should we eat?" She presses her hand to her stomach before her blue eyes zero in on the ice cream machine. She smirks. "Good choice." She wanders over and purchases two mud fug ice-cream sandwiches, a strawberry shortcake cone, and M&M's cone. It's greedy but Jim doesn't usually care and she certainly isn't going to start now, especially since she's pregnant.

Jim rips open the wrapper of one of the mud fug sandwiches and shoves it in her mouth, taking a moment to savor the mixtures of caramel and nuts and fudge. It's so fucking good and her tongue trembles in appreciation.

"_—stop making a big deal out of the little things. Why can't we just, I don't know, get carried away._"

"_Oh yeah, sure. Let's just forget all our responsibilities and runaway together!_"

Jim chokes as she recognizes that one of those voices belongs to Jocelyn and it seems to be headed her way. She panics for a second before she quickly runs to the end of the room and hides on the other side of the soda machine, not because she's scared, but because Jocelyn sounds pissed and she doesn't want to be caught up in that and okay maybe she is just a bit nervous. She peeks around the edge of the machine and sees Jocelyn storm into the room with a very tall, very tan, very handsome gentleman with dark curly hair, green eyes and he's outfitted in the academy red of Starfleet.

Jim can't help but to notice how he looks _exactly_ like Wallace but like an older version.

Jocelyn hisses, "You're impossible, Gary. I should've never told you that I was pregnant in the first place. No, scratch that. I should've never slept with you. You're making my life more hectic and complicated than it already needs to be. And you already have a fucking kid? You should have told me that."

"You should have told me about yours. I think we're even," Gary coolly retorts. "But I wasn't the only pretending that weekend in New York three months ago. I mean, who would've thought we'd run into each other here? Life is funny like that."

Jocelyn scowls and pushes him away as he presses closer. He towers over her and she has to lift her head to meet his gaze. "Look, just listen," she implores as she moves out of his reach and bats her hair out of her eyes. "I admit that what we had was fun, but it was just fun and now I'm paying the consequences for it."

"Is this about your marriage? Because I told you I don't care," Gary says.

Jocelyn's purple lips twist unhappily. "No, it's not about that. And I'm divorced," she corrects. "But none of that matters because I have more important things to deal with, rather than waste my breath on a presumptuous and unattractively cocky cadet."

"Last I remember, you like my _cockiness_," Gary remarks with a confident smirk.

"I'm getting an abortion."

Gary looks stunned, then furious, and, Jim's not exactly sure, but she could swear that his eyes flash silver for a moment. Could be a trick of light though. "You can't," he growls lowly.

"I can and I will if it's my choice to do so because this is _my _body, Mr. Mitchell," Jocelyn coldly states.

"I have rights as the child's father!" Gary snaps.

"This conversation is over. Goodbye, Gary."

Gary looks positively livid and he seems to be choking on several different responses as the lights flicker for a moment before he storms off and disappears.

_What the hell did I just witness?_ Jim silently wonders as she waits for Jocelyn to leave as well.

Jocelyn just presses a hand to her forehead and stomach as she exhales audibly. She wavers a bit before she says, "You can stop skulking like vermin anytime now, Ms. Kirk."

_How the hell did she know I was here? _Jim thinks, startled. She steps into view with her melting pile of ice cream and tries not to look as awkward as she feels.

Jocelyn eyes her tiredly and she snorts wryly. "Don't look so shocked. I could hear you _breathing_," she explains, like it isn't fucking bizarre at _all._

Jim opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes to mind so she shoves her ice cream sandwich in there instead.

Jocelyn turns away and walks over to a small table with a chair and sits. She looks absolutely drained.

Jim wonders is she should be concerned. She walks over and offers her strawberry shortcake cone. "You should eat," she mumbles.

Jocelyn just blankly stares at her.

Jim rolls her eyes and sets the ice cream down. "Look, I know you're pregnant and I know, by the looks of it, you haven't eaten anything in a while, which isn't good because you're the kind of person that likes to overwork yourself because of your massive control freak tendencies. Plus, I also happen to know you like strawberry. Like a lot. So there."

Jocelyn slowly lifts a finely arched brow and only she can make that not look ridiculous.

Jim is the one that ends up feeling ridiculous instead and her face burns. "Shut up," she grumbles. "I just—I _notice _things about people, okay? Especially the ones that have it out for me. I've seen you eat strawberry flavored things at least twelve different times."

Jocelyn doesn't stop looking at Jim like she's bizarre but she does pick up the ice cream cone and tears the wrapper off. She neatly licks away at it and Jim tries not to stare because Jocelyn appears to have a wickedly clever tongue. After a while, Jocelyn notices that Jim's staring and she lifts her eyebrow again but she doesn't stop licking.

Jim reddens and she looks away as she shoves the rest of her gooey mud fug sandwich in her mouth.

"Thank you," Jocelyn says after a long while.

Jim is halfway through her second mud fug sandwich when she hears it and she almost chokes because Jocelyn sounds completely genuine and not spiteful or critical or with any of her usual animosity. She mentally flounders for a bit before she replies, "No problem. Can't let the woman who's judging my every move in this competition faint because of malnourishment."

"Don't press your luck," Jocelyn calmly warns as she stands with the cone. "Get back to your post, Ms. Kirk. No more snack breaks."

"There's the Jocelyn I know. I knew she was still in there somewhere," Jim sarcastically drawls.

Jocelyn ignores the comment as she clicks away in her expensive pumps and disappears from sight. But then she reappears with this odd little smirk and says, "Oh, and one more thing before I forget. You ever tell anyone about what just happened, I will—"

"Jesus, I got it," Jim says with an exasperated frown. "Blah, blah, threat. Relax. Your business is your business."

"And don't ever forget it," Jocelyn adds, always fond of being the one to have the last word. She purposefully gives her cone a long (absolutely _filthy_) lick as she maintains eye contact with Jim and smirks. She clicks away again, but this time for good.

Jim's cheeks are burning and she shakes her head as she finishes up her M&M's ice cream cone. When she does, she finds a bathroom to pee and wash her sticky hands. She returns to the kids shortly after and smiles at their eagerness to read the finished products of their stories. She sits down with the group of kids as one by one, the go to the front of that group and tells their stories.

Her attention is divided because she can't help but to notice that Wallace is missing. Nevertheless, she cheers and applauds and encourages the kids as they go up and dramatically relay their story to the group. After everyone tells their story, they start to have this sort of dance party slash game of 'Simon Says'.

When it's gets dark and visiting hours are coming to an end, Allison and Serene come to collect Jim.

The kids boo and whine, claiming they want Jim to stay and spend the night because she's so much fun.

Jim sadly declines with the help of the supervising nurse, who begins to usher them off to their designated beds for dinner and eventually sleep.

"You guys go on, I'll be down at the bus in a minute," Jim promises.

Serene crosses her arms and huffs, "Yeah, well, don't take forever. I hear we're eatin' at the Grand Palace buffet for dinner and if you make me miss that, I will literally rip out your spinal cord and play jump rope with it." She then smiles like a shark before she glides from the room.

"That girl scares me," Allison says with a dramatic shudder.

Jim hums with a nod before she watches Allison follow after her. She wanders over the supervising nurse and asks, "Hey, um, about one of the kids. His name is Wallace Mitchell—I didn't get a chance to say goodbye."

"That's unfortunate. His mother and father just came to collect him for the weekend before the father returns back to the Academy for his schoolin'," the nurse explains.

"Oh, okay," Jim says and she knows she sounds disappointed. "Well tell him that I really enjoyed his company."

The nurse nods before she goes back to tending to the children.

Jim waves at them all before she makes her way out and down to the shuttle bus. She climbs in and sits beside Allison as they wait for the rest of the girls. When everyone is all assembled, they take the drive out to the Grand Palace buffet for dinner.

Jim sits with Eleanora and Pauline at their own table and they begin to discuss and prepare for the festival tomorrow. She has to sadly explain that she still has no idea what kind of talent she wants to display. She's not much of an entertainer but she can play the guitar now, yet that may not be enough.

Eleanora and Pauline then go back and forth about different ideas until its time for everyone to return to the hotel. They invite Jim up to their room so they can continue this line of discussion.

Pauline gives Jim a manicure/pedicure, adds extensions to her hair, spreads some kind of lime green mask over Jim's face, and starts pinning up her hair with large styling rollers.

Eleanora has Jim stand on the coffee table when Pauline finishes her handiwork. She says, "Let's go over the speech you're gonna give once they call you to the stage."

Jim exhales and straightens her posture.

"Relax, Jamie. Try not to stand like someone is holdin' a gun to your back," Eleanora instructs with humor. "Think light, graceful, like a fallin' feather."

Jim's face twists as she attempts to channel that.

Eleanora sighs.

Pauline chuckles. "I got it," she says and pats the back of Eleanora's hand affectionately. She stands and joins Jim on the table. "Alright. I'm gonna teach you a trick I use to give to the models I toured with. What you gotta do is display yourself like a queen. Now, in order to do such, what you wanna do is come really tight from your core." She pats Jim's stomach. "Relax the shoulders." She slides her hands down over Jim's shoulders. "Make your neck long like a swan." She gently lifts Jim's chin. "And think, 'murder'."

Jim snorts but she does, turning elegantly to face Eleanora.

Eleanora presses a hand to the base of her neck and she shakes her hand in fond bafflement. "My Lord, Pauline, you are an absolute miracle worker," she declares.

Pauline winks before she climbs down carefully and returns to the couch. "Now, your majesty, you may commence with your speech."

Jim grins and begins speaking the rehearsed lines, correcting any errors that Eleanora and Pauline point out. She then grabs the acoustic guitar and plays a simple song that's pretty average but has a bit of touching sentiment to it.

Eleanora and Pauline still look unsure about it but they keep their comments to themselves, instead, choosing to just hope for the best.

Jim runs through this routine over and over until everyone is satisfied with it and she yawns tiredly. She hugs Eleanora and Pauline on her way out the door and returns to her room. She's not even slightly surprised that Allison and Serene are in the living room area watching a gory horror movie with Allison practically in Serene's lap out of fear while Serene just watches with a gleefully entertained grin.

Jim declines their offer to join and she slides under the cool sheets of her plush bed.

And like all the other previous nights, Jim falls asleep with Bones wrapped up in her thoughts and prayers.

888

**Sunday – July 12th – Noon**

**Fallen Heroes Festival**

The festival's being held in the metropolitan's main park. It's crowded by the masses of people and their families and the sponsors of the events. At the center of the park, away from the concession stands and the game stands and the carnival rides, there is a large black stage where well-known solo musicians, bands and other entertainers play their sets.

Jim's stomach is up in knots, and she feels just a bit ridiculous in this old Starfleet uniform (even though all the other girls are wearing them too). She doesn't feel like it falls right, and though Pauline had done a killer job with her makeup and with her hair (electing to give her the kind of up-do that fit with the timeframe of the old uniform), she still feels silly.

Rosemary Suarez had warned them that they would be going on stage later that evening, and until then, they should just enjoy the festival but not too much that they'd miss their slot.

Jim is currently eating away at a glazed pretzel as she watches Serene drag Allison on every carnival ride they find since Jim had declined being her ride buddy. Of course, Jim would have loved nothing more than to climb on some rides, but she's pregnant and that's not exactly safe. So, Jim just stays content with gorging herself on festival drinks and treats, careful to avoid anything that could flare up any of her allergies.

Time flies quicker than Jim would like, and before she knows it, they're being herded together by Mrs. Gloria Albright and guided to the back area of the stage. They're lined up in order and Jim isn't sure if it's a blessing that she's last or a curse.

Jim straps on the cherry red acoustic guitar that Pauline and Eleanora had gifted to her a few days prior and she tries not to puke from anxiety alone.

"Jim?"

Jim blinks and turns to see none other than Wallace Mitchell. He's got a stick of cotton candy clenched between the robotic fingers of his prosthetic hand while his real hand is holding a huge waffle cone of chocolate/vanilla swirl.

"Hey! Wallace, I didn't know you were here," Jim says as she leaves her place in the slow moving lineup of anxiously fidgeting girls. "You here with your parents?"

Wallace nods and he uses his head to gesture behind him where Gary Mitchell and a Hispanic woman are talking with another couple. "My mom and I come to the festival every year, and sometimes my dad joins us when he can," he explains. He takes a moment to eye her and the guitar attached to her. "You up to something?"

"Unfortunately," Jim drawls before she shrugs. "I'm apart of this pageant and—" A thought suddenly occurs to her. "You didn't get to display your fairytale yesterday."

Wallace shifts but he smiles timidly. "I didn't have much anyway. Just a song."

Jim slowly starts to smile. "How would you like to do me a tremendous favor?"

Wallace frowns curiously.

"I think you should ask your parents first," Jim supposes as she returns to her spot in line. "You don't suffer from stage fright, do you?"

Wallace expression clears into comprehension as he starts to get what she's indirectly asking. "No. I used to do talent shows before my accident, um, did you want me to—"

Jim nods before he can even finish.

Wallace considers that for a moment before he straightens with a determined look. "I'll be right back, Jim," he promises and he goes to his parents.

Jim watches as he hands over his cotton candy and ice cream to his mom as Gary rests his hand on the crown of Wallace's head while they both listen to his petition. His mother frowns thoughtfully but Gary shrugs with a slight grin, saying something that gets her to give a reluctant nod.

Wallace hugs Gary happily and then his mom before he joins Jim in the lineup.

Jim waves and smiles to Wallace's parents when they glance over before she turns her attention away. She gives a brief explanation to Wallace about what would be happening and he nods with a sober expression. Jim can't help but to think that if she was a queen, then Wallace was her little knight in shining armor, honor bound to offer his services during these 'trying' times.

When Jim is called to the stage, she and Wallace walk up the steps together and she walks over to the mic, trying not to calculate how many people are in the crowd.

Jocelyn and the other judges are standing at the other end of the stage, watching her curiously.

Jim touches her hand to the microphone on its slim stand and she remembers everything that she went through with Eleanora and Pauline. So she stands like a queen and commands the attention of the audience and says, "My name is Jim Kirk. I know a lot of you recognize my last name and its association with my father, George Kirk, who was a fallen hero in his own right. A lot of times when I think of courage, I think of my father and the sacrifice he made when he, during his time at Starfleet Academy, manned a Starfleet shuttle, and with impossible calculations, managed to damage and intercept a foreign drill before it could wipe out Earth. That at the cost of his life, he was able to drive away our mysterious alien attackers, and save our planet from certain doom. This is why I can I completely understand what those of you who's had ancestors perish in the Earth-Romulan War in efforts to protect and preserve all that we hold dear on our planet. We've come to learn that the universe is vast and contains so much that we still don't know. But in all this, I think it is important for us to remember, as our fallen heroes had, what it is worth fighting for. So my dear friend, Wallace Mitchell, is going to help me sing the Anthem of the United Federation of Planets. Please feel free to join us." She lowers the microphone stand as Wallace steps up to take her place.

A stage worker quickly brings Jim another mic and an accompanying stand for her guitar before leaving again.

Wallace looks to Jim and Jim nods at him and begins to strum away at her guitar as he turns away and bravely sings.

The audience hushes, enraptured by the stylistic vocals of Wallace and Jim doesn't even blame them—the kid has beautiful pipes. She gets a bit teary-eyed as she continues to play and he continues to sing. Pretty soon everyone out in the audience is joining along, and there is a moment of lovely harmony.

In the end, Jim sniffs and wipes her tears as she goes to Wallace and hugs him as he hugs back with a few tears in his own eyes. They wave and exit the stage as there is a thunderous moment of applause and cheers.

"Damn, Jim. You blew us out of the water with that one," Serene complains as she and the other girls gather around them when they come down the stairs to the back area.

"You are so gonna win this thing," Allison says, a bit woefully and the other ladies hiss at her. "What? She is."

Jim smiles self-consciously and shrugs as she ruffles Wallace's curls. "It was this guy right here. I didn't do a thing," she claims.

"It was clever," Nicki Jones decides. "There's no way the judges won't consider it."

The other ladies nod in agreement.

Zonta, who's been avoiding Jim like the plague all weekend, walks over to Wallace and says, "You have such a gorgeous voice."

Wallace cheeks turn pink and he ducks his gaze. "Thank you," he mumbles.

Zonta smiles at him but she doesn't spare Jim a glance as she walks away.

"Well, hell," Ruby Chatterjee huffs amusedly. "I thought I was a pro at givin' the cold shoulder. You two got beef or somethin'?"

The other ladies look on with interest for her answer.

Jim grins tightly. "It's complicated," she says as evenly as possible. "Excuse me. I've got to return him to his family." She's glad she has an excuse to flee from all those curious eyes.

Wallace is quietly smiling, sensing her discomfort. He barely makes it a few more steps before he's being ambushed in a hug by his mother, who has tears and mascara running down her cheeks. She's frantically kissing around Wallace's face, exclaiming how proud of him she is.

His father, Gary, is looking on at the two of them with a soft kind of fond proudness.

Jim decides to slip away, feeling like she's intruding on a private family moment, but before she can completely disappear, someone grabs her hand.

It's Wallace. His face is smeared in lipstick marks. "Jim. Thank you. I haven't done anything normal in a long while," he says and he smiles. "I don't know when we'll see each other again but—"

"I'm sure we will," Jim promises.

"Yeah, but if we _don't_," Wallace continues and he uses a pen to write his comm link in her hand. "Please call me once and a while."

Jim takes the pen from him and returns the favor. "Please call me," she echoes with a small grin. "You did me a huge favor. Let me know if there's something I can do for you."

Wallace nods and he waves a reluctant goodbye before he returns to his parents.

Jim wanders off to find Eleanora and Pauline, who congratulate her on a job well done. It's not too long after that before they're all hustling and bustling to the luxury buses so they can return to Hudson Hill. Their entire luggage is packed and stored away from this morning, so all they have to do is climb on their respective buses. Jim doesn't make the mistake of getting on the bus with the ladies and Eleanora somehow talks Jocelyn into letting Jim on their bus.

Jim settles in the back beside a window with Eleanora flocking her side while Pauline sits in the aisle seat across from them. She's tired (always tired) and she puts on her large headphones and pulls up her music library on her PADD before she curls up in her seat and leans against the cool window. The bus rocks her to sleep and Eleanora throws a thin fleece blanket over her, which she kicks off because it's too hot.

By the time they arrive in Hudson Hill, it's close to eight p.m. and the sun is just beginning to set.

Jim climbs into Eleanora's truck as Eleanora and Pauline sort out the luggage. The drive back to the house is short and quiet.

Once their clothes and everything is sorted out and put away (and Jim changes into something more comfortable, like a scandalously short, aquamarine silk and lace nightgown). She foregoes wearing a bra because it would only agitate her already tender chest, and to be honest, the cool slick of the nightgown is all too soothing in a lot of ways against her skin. She waltzes down to the kitchen, where Pauline and Eleanora are making chicken potpie from scratch before she tucks away in the living room with her communicator.

Jim curls up on the couch as she anxiously eyes the blank touchscreen of her communicator. It takes a while before she can muster up the courage to send off a quick text to Bones.

_*Are we still in a fight?_

Jim gnaws on her bottom lip nervously until she can taste a bit of blood. She soothes the small cut with the tip of her tongue as she waits and waits and waits.

Finally, she gets a reply.

****_You make my life unpredictable._**

Jim laughs and feels the knot of anxiety in her chest loosen as she responds.

*_You drive me crazy, you know that right? I could choke you as much as I could kiss you._

_****Glad the feeling is mutual. **_

Jim grins as she nibbles on her bottom lip and types out a reply. She hesitates with it a first, feeling vulnerable and uncertain, but in the end, she braves the unknown and just sends it.

**_*_**_I miss you._

Bones's reply is instantaneous.

_****Me too. Always.**_

Jim feels her cheeks heat up and she throws her communicator to the other side of the couch before she covers her face with her hands. She makes a few incoherent sounds and shakes her head against the giddy, elated feeling that tries to bubble up in her as if she were some twelve year old with a stupid crush. She doesn't have a crush, okay? She just really likes Bones as a person and he's quickly becoming her best friend and that's the end of it.

Jim huffs out a sigh as she drops her hands to her side. She gets herself together and grabs her communicator so she can type out her next reply.

*_Me and Jellybean are fine by the way. If you were wondering._

_****Jellybean?**_

_*Our baby._

_****Interesting. And of course I wonder. It's all I can think about.**_

Jim wiggles her mouth against the smile she wants to give. She types out her reply but he's got another text coming in before she can.

****_I heard you had your first prenatal appointment with Dr. Becker. How was it?_**

*_Fine. Normal._

Jim waits a bit before she adds another text.

*_You should've been there._

_****I should've. **_

Jim brushes her fingernails against the seam of her bottom lip as a wave of guilt and regret washes over her. She types out her next text.

*_The next one is on the 22nd. We'll find out the gender together._

_****I'll be there. **_

_*And from now on, let's agree that when we fight that it's never like this. It shouldn't get to the point where we aren't talking at all._

_****I agree. I'm sorry.**_

_*Not as much as me._

_****Believe me. I am. I shouldn't have tried to pressure you to stay or not go for what you want.**_

_*But you were right about the whole stability thing. I haven't had much luck with it and I was being selfish. I wasn't thinking about the baby when I said those things. I was thinking about me and how I felt. I was unhappy._

**_**Was._**

_*?_

_****You said you 'were' unhappy. What changed?**_

**_*_**_The baby did. And it's not like I feel like I have a new purpose in life or anything. It's just that I have a better sense of direction. Life's too short to be sitting around miserable and me being pregnant isn't a curse. _

_****I'm glad you feel that way. I always thought it was amazing. You're amazing.**_

_*Stop flirting._

_****You're the mother of my child. I'll flirt all I like.**_

Jim snickers and types out a reply.

*_I want you to know that I decided what I wanted to do with my life. With my future._

_****I'm all ears. I'll support you no matter what it is.**_

Jim smiles at that. She types out the next text.

*_Starfleet._

_****I lied. That's a terrible idea and I can't possibly support that.**_

_*BONES! _

_****Fine. Fine. You wanna go up into outer space with all that madness then I wont stop you. I guess all I can do is follow and pray God have mercy on us all.**_

Jim blinks in surprise and she rereads that text at least six more times before it sinks in. She types out a reply.

*_No way are you coming?! Like are you serious? What about Jocelyn and Joanna?_

_****Joyce and I are working that out. I think she's going to agree with my petition for full custody. Joyce wants to move to New York to run for mayoral office and she's gonna have to realize that she's not gonna be able to divide her attention. We can give it a few years of Joanna being with me and see what happens. Things change.**_

_*Wow. I don't know what to think. I just think that Jocelyn would totally be against me being around Joanna and stuff._

_****Don't be an idiot. Her opinion is irrelevant when it comes to our business and our child. I'm coming with you and that's the end of it.**_

_*But what about your family clinic and your mother and your life here?_

_****My cousin Robert will be fine to take over in my absence. My momma will be fine and my life is with Joanna and with you and with our kid. Hudson Hill will always be here waiting for me. Can I say the same about you, Jim?**_

Damn it, that clever bastard has a point. Who knows where Jim will be in three years? Especially since she's going to be packing up and shipping out to join arms with Starfleet. She wants to be a Captain. Something in her gut is telling her that she'd be excellent in the command track and she won't know for sure unless she tries.

Jim types out her next text.

*_We're still not in a relationship and I'm not going to marry you and you can't blame me if things don't work out with Starfleet._

_****You done?**_

Jim rolls her eyes but she can't help the small grin that spreads on her lips.

****_I don't need anything other than what you wanna give me. I mean that. Just don't run from me. Don't chase me off. And don't be afraid to talk to me about anything. I'll give you the same courtesy. You know I will._**

Jim gnaws on her bottom lip as she rereads the text and moves to go to the kitchen when Eleanora calls her for dinner. She keeps her communicator in her lap as she eats and thinks long and hard on her reply. In the end, she just stops stressing it and sends something legitimately simple.

*_I'll be fair._

_****Damn right you will.**_

Jim laughs and ignores the amused glances that Eleanora and Pauline send her. She shuts off her communicator and she concentrates on eating instead. She is noticeably chipper, she realizes, but that's just because. Just because.

Jim blends herself a fruit smoothie after she finishes her dinner and she carries it (along with her communicator) out to the back porch. She settles down on the middle of the porch swing with both of her bare feet brushing the smooth floorboards while the swing sways. She admires the stillness of the night and the serene sounds of nature.

Eleanora and Pauline bid her a goodnight before they disappear upstairs.

Jim swallows the last of her smoothie as she checks her communicator screen for the millionth time but it's still blank.

"Waitin' for somethin'?" a gruff voice says to her immediate right.

Jim jumps and chokes in terror. She whips her gaze and sees Bones standing right there with a small brown paper bag in his hand and a smirk on his face. "You _asshole_," she hisses as she stands and punches him in the shoulder. "You scared me half to death!" she complains.

Bones doesn't look the least bit sorry for it. He shoves the paper bag into her chest and ignores the way she hisses in complaint.

Jim glares at him but she sits back down and opens the bag to see what's inside. When she does, she laughs. She pulls out a small jar of Greek olives. "Bones, what did I tell you about trying to _woo _me?"

Bones lowers himself to his knees before her before he grabs her left foot and begins to massage it. "M'not," he denies. "I'm doin' a favor for my pregnant best friend."

Jim twists the cap off with a small smile. "Best friend?"

Bones scowls at her and dares her to argue the point.

Jim just laughs and wiggles her foot in his magical hands. "Don't look at me like that. I'm just surprised to hear you say it. I mean I was _always _suspicious that we were, but I figured I'd let you work that out," she says with a slight grin before she pops an olive in her mouth with a sigh.

Bones rubs his thumbs up and down the soles of her left foot before he switches to the right.

Jim fidgets as the gentle touch shoots sparks up and down her calf muscles and causes a pool of warmth to flood her lower gut. She pops a few more olives in her mouth and clamps her thighs together.

Bones leans forward and kisses her right knee and then moves up higher to kiss her stomach before his lips find hers.

Jim sinks into it and she has to fumble with the jar of olives for a moment before she can put them on the ground.

Bones's fingers curl around the soft curve of her inner knee and he uses that grip to tug her forward so that she can wrap her legs around his waist. He picks her up and turns, taking her place on the swing so that she can straddle him.

Jim twists her fingers in his soft hair as she presses closer, sucking on his tongue as she angles his head back so that she bite on his lower lip in frustration.

Bones rumbles and his large hands slide along the outside of her legs, gripping at her thighs before he slides past the hem of her nightgown to find the elastic band of her underwear. He tugs sharply and they rip, leaving behind a slight sting on her inner thighs.

Jim's kisses turn a little desperate as she reaches down between them to yank open the fastenings of his fly, drawing her hand inside to pull him out. She coils her tongue against his as she lifts her hips slightly before she steadies his cock under her and sinks down on him with a quiet gasp.

Bones stamps a trail of wet, biting kisses down her freckled neck to her collarbone as he tugs the straps of her nightgown down, exposing her breasts to the cool night air.

Jim makes a small sound as she starts swaying her hips back and forth, building up a breathless rhythm that causes the chains holding the swing up to squeak in protest. She moans and trembles as he closes his mouth over her right nipple, thrusting up as she rides down. She gasps as she rotates her hips and grinds down against him as his nails scratch down her back.

Bones grunts and lifts his head to pull her head down into a desperate kiss and Jim pulls away with a breathless laugh as she works her hips faster, holding his gaze as she moans and moves faster. He wraps his arms around her and presses her closer so that their chests are touching.

Jim feels a flush break out across her body and her thighs tremble from the burn of riding him as enthusiastically as she is. God she wants this so bad—missed the intimacy so much. She kisses him again and folds her arms around his neck as she tangles a hand in his hair, gasping again when he thrusts up roughly. Her orgasm slams into her entire body unexpectedly and races across her skin like delicious licks of flames until she's sobbing against his lips, hips jerking in a skewed pattern as Bones writhes under her as he comes.

When Jim falls back into her body again, her forehead is pressing against Bones's and their breathing together with their arms around each other. She shifts up until he isn't inside of her anymore and he tucks himself away before he tugs down her nightgown and pulls the straps over her shoulders again.

Jim sighs and drops her forehead to his collarbone and just breathes him in as he rubs his hands up and down her back. "Stay," she murmurs.

"Hm?"

Jim lifts her head and says, "Stay. I want you to stay."

Bones studies her face before he nods.

Jim gingerly climbs off him and moves to grab the jar of olives and her communicator. She puts the olives away in the fridge before she tangles her fingers with his and leads him up to her room. She climbs into bed with him and hugs a pillow to her chest as he hugs her to his. She presses a hand to her lower stomach and his hand joins hers there.

Jim doesn't have a prayer to say tonight because its already been answered.

Resolution.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>_Questions? Comments? Concerns?_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**Monday – July 13th – 3 a.m.**

Jim wakes up.

Simply put, just like that.

She wakes up.

Jim knows it's early because her room is still dark, and normally when she wakes, bright ribbons of sunlight stab into her irises the moment her eyelids lift. This is not the case at this particular point, so she knows it's early. She can't determine how early but as far as she can tell, the sun is just beginning to rise. She's lying on her side facing her open windows, and she can see the sky is still dark but drawing near to the horizon it bleeds into a pale color until it reaches the line of orange gathering around the rising sun.

It's beautiful.

Even if the sight is broken by the obstruction of apple trees and clouds.

It's beautiful.

Jim sighs as she turns away from the sight to watch Bones sleep. He's lying face down with his arms cradled under his pillow and head while his shirt rides up, exposing the lean curves of his stomach and hips. The man can wear the hell out of a pair of jeans, but this is something she's always noticed. She draws her gaze over his ass before bringing them up to his broad shoulders and over his (what appears to be) cleanly shaved jaw. His hair is sticking in haphazard directions, his brow is furrowed as his lashes twitch over his cheeks and his lips are pressed in a frown. It's enough to make her smile and think that even in his dreams he can't stop being a grouch.

She reaches out carefully and traces her index finger down the line of his nose.

Bones twitches but he doesn't wake.

Jim bites her bottom lip and does it again.

Bones's nose wiggles adorably and his frown deepens.

Jim grins amusedly and does it again.

Bones mutters out a curse and, before she can blink, grabs her with one hand and draws her close until his lips are pressed against the space between her eyebrows. He says, "Go back to sleep."

Jim smiles as she shifts. "I'm not tired," she quietly replies and kicks him.

"Stop kickin' me."

Jim kicks him again.

Bones sighs and when she glances up, he's glaring down at her with glossy hazel eyes. "Do I have to hold you down?"

"Nah." She kicks him again.

Bones swears and shifts away for a moment before he presses so close that she's forced to tangle her legs with his, her arms become sandwiched between their chests while his wind around her body. His palms lie flat against her back, one between her shoulder blades and the other at the base of her spine.

Jim makes a face as she tries to squirm, but this embrace makes it impossible, not to mention the solid hold he has on her. She continues to squirm before she stops with a wince and a pout—her bony wrists are brushing against her sore breasts in all the wrong ways.

"Finally," Bones breathes when she settles down. "Now will you let me be?"

"But I'm not tired," Jim quietly whines and smiles when she feels a gust of air hit against her forehead when he huffs.

"So just cause you ain't sleep, you decided I shouldn't be either?" Bones grumbles in that whiskey-laced tone of his. "How is it that you can give me grief first thing in the mornin' before the sun's even properly come up in the sky?"

"I'd like to think of it as a natural talent."

"Shut up," Bones mutters but he's chuckling. His hands start rubbing up and down her back. "What is it then? Somethin' the matter?"

Jim shakes her head but rethinks her response when her wrists brush her tender breasts. She says, "My boobs, Bones. They hurt."

Bones makes a thoughtful sound before he leans away. He puts a large hand on her right breast and Jim gives a start at the suddenness of it before she rolls her eyes. "S'normal, Jim," he assures tiredly as he gently caresses her chest. "You're pregnant and—hm," he pauses suddenly as he really starts to palm her right breast.

Jim shivers because the touch isn't exactly uncomfortable. "What?" she whispers and her breath hitches when his fingers contracts against her swollen breast. She laughs at the look of fascination that crosses his features. "Seriously, what?"

"You grew a cup size," Bones replies distractedly.

Jim finds it extremely fascinating that he would notice, and then she gets stupidly warm when she thinks about how much attention he must pay to her to even be able to notice. She tries to play it off as a doctoral trait but that doesn't stop her cheeks from getting pink out of flattery or fondness.

Stupid hormones.

Bones continues to grope away, even alternating between hands and breasts. He's literally feeling her up so thoroughly that Jim is starting to get turned on by it.

Jim shifts her legs away from his so that she can clamp her thighs together against the liquid heat pooling south very quickly. She exhales with another shiver and complains, "What are you trying to size me for a bra or something? Jesus, _stop._"

Bones glances up at her with a small smirk and a furrowed brow. "Does it hurt? I'm bein' as gentle as I can, darlin'," he promises in a honeyed tone.

"Oh you _bastard_, you know what you're doing," Jim accuses with a disbelieving laugh and her hips jerk when his thumb strokes over a hardening nipple. It sends sparks through her entire body.

Bones makes a thoughtful sound, like none of this has an affect on him. "Just tryin' to help," he drawls as he scoots closer. "And since you're not tired and all—figure I might as well help put you back to sleep."

Jim laughs and rolls them over so she's on top and she kisses him. She pulls back and rasps, "Fuck you" before she dives back in again before he can reply.

They twist together in the sheets, tucking and rolling across the expanse of Jim's bed as they playfully wrestle, groping and biting in an sensual fight for dominance that Bones eventually wins because he's a dirty (fantastic) cheat.

They don't leave the bed until three hours later.

Jim joins Bones in the shower because he asks her to and she doesn't see why she should refuse.

They take turns washing each other's back and hair, but that just ends up turning into quick kisses which switch into longer kisses which morphs into longer kisses with _tongue _and eventually Bones is pressing her into the wet tiles of the shower wall with her thighs around his hips. Her face is cradled into his neck as she gasps against the hot steam of the shower and the way his hips thrust up while his large hands grip the curve of her hips and ass to keep her steady.

Basically, they end up having to wash up again because they keep getting deterred.

Really, it's no wonder that Jim is as pregnant as she is now.

But anyway, when they finally stumble out of the bathroom wet, clean, and satiated, Jim climbs into a pair of dark denim cutoff shorts with one of Bones's flannel shirts. After she buttons up the black and white shirt, and rolls the sleeves up to her elbow, she takes a moment to notice that Bones has a fucking drawer of his own in her dresser.

This doesn't necessarily worry her as much as it makes her think.

Jim dismisses the thought as she wanders into her bathroom and wipes away the condensation on the sink mirror. She then grabs her chest and turns from side to side to spot the difference, which is a bit hard because Bones's shirt is kinda large on her. So she unbuttons the flannel shirt and holds it open as she stares at her own boobs which, if she were to be honest, are peeking out, round and full, in her grey cotton bra.

"What are you doin'?" Bones asks as he enters the bathroom, shrugging on a light blue thermal shirt before he does up his pants and buckles his belt.

"My boobs are bigger," Jim simply replies. She stops checking him out long enough to go back to eyeing herself down. "How big are they gonna grow you think?"

Bones lifts a brow as he sends an amused look to her reflection while he brushes his hair. "Hard to say, Jim. The female body is an interestin' but complicated design," he supposes.

Jim doesn't think he means it as a compliment but somehow it manages to sound like one. "I wouldn't mind growing about three cup sizes," she admits and stares woefully at her small chest. "After I have the baby, I get to keep them right?"

Bones snorts and kisses her temple. "You're perfect already," he mutters before he swats her on the ass and walks off.

Jim is partially annoyed, partially flattered. Her cheeks turn pink and her fingers are a bit shaky as she buttons up his shirt, stopping right above her newly gained cleavage. She sighs and grabs the brush Bones was just using before she uses it to part her hair and weave it all into two Dutch braids.

When she's done, she climbs into her calf-high cowboy boots and grabs her communicator on the way out the door, putting it in her back pocket as she skips down the steps.

Eleanora and Pauline are sitting at the kitchen table, chatting away over cups of freshly brewed coffee while Bones stands off to the side, leaning in the open doorway of the back door with his own cup and a thoughtful expression.

Jim waves with a nonchalant grin and ignores the way Eleanora and Pauline send her amused looks as they glance between her and Bones. She doesn't, however, ignore the pleased feeling she gets at the way Bones's hazel eyes follow her as she moves about the kitchen. She pours herself a tall glass of orange juice and knocks back her medicine before she fixes herself a plate of the scrambled eggs Eleanora already prepared for the house with some toast. She doesn't forget to grab the jar of olives on her way back to the table.

She settles across from Eleanora and Pauline and eats.

Bones joins them at the table with his own plate and his second cup of coffee.

"No work today, Len?" Pauline asks, genuinely curious.

Bones just shakes his head as he jams a piece of buttered toast in his mouth.

"Well I'm sure they'll be missin' you. Not as much as we do, mind you," Pauline remarks with a grin.

Bones shrugs with a slight smile before he scrapes most of his eggs onto Jim's plate.

Jim frowns at him. "Stop trying to fatten me up," she complains around a mouthful of eggs and toast and olives.

Bones returns to the stove without acknowledging the fact that he (totally) is. He claims the last of the eggs in the fry pan before returning to the table.

Eleanora hides her amused smile into the rim of her mug and says, "Jamie, have you given thought to the kind of booth you want to run for the Founder's Festival this weekend?"

Bones sends her a questioning look.

Jim ignores it because she doesn't have time to figure out why. She pops another olive in her mouth and after a brief swallow, she replies, "Kissing booth, maybe? I had a lot of luck with the last one I did."

Bones's expression morphs into something not exactly disapproving but more or less disagreeable.

Jim internally rolls her eyes because Bones has never been good at hiding his jealousy and she suspects that he doesn't ever really care to. Just to spite him, she goes on to say, "You know what? I have an even better idea." She turns to face Bones. "How about you operate it?"

Bones blinks and his features become a little less stormy and more confused. "Pardon?"

"Yeah, why not? You're _very _attractive. Just as attractive as I am. I think you'd bring in quite the flock of customers," Jim supposes as she wiggles her eyebrows with a teasing smirk.

Bones flushes a little before he frowns. "I—I don't think I'd be good to—"

"Nope. Totally settled," Jim quickly interjects and aims her blue eyes back to Eleanora who is looking as incredulously entertained as Pauline is. "There you have it. I think we better get him some lipstick too. People seemed to like that."

Bones bristles. "Now _hold on _a goddamn minute! I ain't agree to—"

"Or I could do it myself," Jim interrupts again and sends him a knowing look. "But remember that favor you owe me from that hellish day you rung me dry in that clinic of yours?"

Bones sulks.

"No pressure, though," Jim assures gently in a patronizing tone. "I have _no _problem kissing hundreds of strangers for a worthy cause."

Bones sulks harder.

Jim smirks.

Eleanora huffs and says, "Honestly, Jamie."

"What?" Jim tries to look innocent.

"You don't play fair," Pauline notes with a humored smile. "But then again, guys always make it too easy, don't they?"

"It's almost unjust," Jim agrees and three of them laugh at Bones's sour expression.

"You're all ridiculous," Bones grumbles as he takes his plate with him and stomps out the house through the backdoor.

Eleanora chuckles and shakes her head as she lowers her mug. "My Lord, James. He's never gonna have a dull moment with you, is he? And imagine how my grandbaby's gonna be."

Jim smiles a little before she grows serious. "I do really think Bones could bring in a crowd. But this is also supposed to showcase our innovative skills, so I think I should go a step further."

"Oh? I'm all ears," Eleanora says as she leans forward, as does Pauline.

"Well, you know how well those muffins I made went over? I could make more of them. Different flavors. Creative flavors. Like apple cinnamon, or peach banana, or even strawberry orange."

Pauline nods. "Sounds like a good plan to me. I'll lend my hands with that if you need. That'll be a lot of bakin'."

"Surely true," Eleanora agrees. "Tell you what—you let me make some calculations and we can work from there." She goes on to say, "In the mean time, you might wanna soften up the future father of your children. No one's gonna come round if he keeps up that surly attitude of his. Always did have poor bedside manner, that one."

Jim flushes partially but she finishes the remainder of her food before she stands. "I'll see what I can do. No promises," she warns as she drops a kiss to Eleanora and Pauline's cheek.

Eleanora and Pauline wave her off before they bring their heads together in order to plan for the weekend.

Jim takes that as her cue to down the rest of her orange juice and dump her dishes in the sink. She wanders out the backdoor and when she doesn't spot Bones on the porch, she figures he must be at the stables. So that's where she goes. She finds Bones brushing down his horse Saturn with affectionate care. Her nose wrinkles disagreeably against the strong smell of animal and hay and shit.

"What's that face for?" Bones questions as he glances at her from the other side of Saturn. He strokes the brush down Saturn's back.

"It stinks in here," Jim replies as she stays right where she is in the open doorway of the barn. She shoves her hands in the back pockets of her shorts.

"No more than usual," Bones supposes as he works his way around to the other side of the large steed.

Saturn huffs and stamps his front right hoof into the ground as he bobs his head.

Bones shushes him as he pats his side and continues to brush him. "The smell botherin' you?" he asks after a while. He glances over his shoulder at her in concern.

Jim smiles a little and says, "No more than usual."

Bones scoffs but he seems amused. He doesn't appear to be as ornery as he was before. Must be the effect Saturn has on him.

Jim doesn't know what he's going to do when they leave for Starfleet. Saturn wont be around to calm out his more prickly moods when needed. It's slightly worrisome and before she can help it, she begins to feel guilty again for dragging him away.

"Now what's _that _face for?" Bones questions as he returns the brush to its place of origin and ventures over to her. He crosses his arms as they stand face to face and he studies her.

Jim says, "Nothing."

Bones frowns.

"Well," Jim backtracks because she did promise to be honest. "I was just thinking that you wouldn't be able to see Saturn as much when we go to California." She pauses and shrugs. "Felt a little bad."

"Do me a favor and don't," Bones merely says before he leans down and swipes an apple off the ground. He makes a small clucking sound with his tongue and Saturn tromps over. "Big guy'll be alright without me. Wouldn't be the first time."

Saturn greedily eats the apple from Bones's hand before butting his nose affectionately against Bones's shoulder.

Bones smiles in reply.

Jim swallows because that smile does things to her stomach and heart that she's not ready to analyze. She presses on, "That's not, um, what I meant. I just—you come out here when you're upset and I _know_ I'll upset you someway or another and you'll need a way to vent and—"

"I'm not changin' my mind," Bones carefully interrupts and he turns away from Saturn to give Jim his full attention. "I know we'll fight. Just like I know that you're not _always _gonna be the source of my stress. Jim, there's gonna be other things that's gonna get to me and I'll deal with them. If I need to go for a walk, I will. If I need to sit somewhere quietly, I will. Hell, if I have to take up knittin', I will. I'll do whatever it takes, but I'll find a way to manage my temper when need be. I'm not leavin' you, Jim. That's absolutely not on the table. Okay?"

Jim nods quickly to cover the fact that his words have managed to reassure her beyond comprehension.

"Okay then. So stop lookin' like you strangled a puppy. I wouldn't leave if I didn't want to," Bones says as he reaches out and cups his hand around the back of her neck. "C'mere," he mumbles and pulls her close.

Jim lets him without a fight. She wraps her arms around his midsection and squeezes as she hides her nose into his neck. She breathes him in for a moment—he smells like straw and sweat and earthy. She loves likes it.

Bones rubs his hand up and down her back before he turns and rests his arm on her shoulders.

"You'll still do the booth thing though, right?" Jim carefully asks because now would be the perfect time as any.

Bones winces but he says, "Yeah, Kid. I'll do it, God help me." He waits a moment before he adds, "Speakin' of which—I figured, since we'd be leavin' whenever we leave, you'd drop out of the competition."

Jim forgets that Bones is cleverly perceptive. "Yeah…" she drawls. "Funny you should mention that."

Bones looks down at her expectantly as he steers her out of the barn and back towards the house.

"There's been this thing with Florence and me and um," she pauses to find the right words. "Well it's mostly her plan and everything, um—I think it'd be better if you just came with me when I go over to her apartment. She can explain this whole thing a lot better than I can, but Bones, you have to promise not to like freak out or go after Chadwick or his dad."

Bones frowns deeply. "I'm not likin' the sound of this so far, Jim," he says honestly. "But I'll hold my questions until we get to Florence's place."

Jim grabs the front of his shirt and surprises him with a long, wet, smacking kiss.

Bones blinks rather dazedly at the end of it and mumbles, "What was that for?"

Jim shrugs because she doesn't really know, and she drags him into the house so he can get his keys.

Florence, of course, welcomes them warmly when they turn up on her doorstep. "Well if it isn't my favorite couple," she says as she ushers them in and locks the door behind them. "Blue I was expecting. But you, Dr. Bones, well—what do I owe that pleasure?"

Bones tucks his hands in his front pockets with a minor shrug. "Jim said you had somethin' to explain to me."

Jim grins weakly when Florence shoots her a glare. "Him and I made up and we got this sort of honesty policy going on and I just couldn't keep it from him okay? He's starting to figure it out on his own anyway," she defensively explains.

Florence's lips curl unhappily and her shoulders tense up. "Go sit down," she instructs as she points at her messy couch. "I'll get you both some water."

Jim grabs Bones's hand and directs him to the couch. She, of course, takes the time to clear it of the magazines and ripped jeans and takeout containers before they settle down. She crosses her legs and leans into his side as he rests an arm behind her on the back of the couch.

Florence joins them a moment later with two icy bottles of water. She sits across from them on the edge of the coffee table, which squeaks under her weight. She takes a moment to tongue at her lip piercing. "So I'm supposing there ain't no delicate way to put this," she says, haltingly. "Blue's being blackmailed into marrying Chadwick at the behest of Mayor Treadway, who we're still slightly unclear of his primary motive but we've done our research and we've mad a good guess of it."

Bones grips his water bottle so tightly that the plastic cap literally pops off and goes flying over their heads. Water and ice bursts up before dripping messily down his hand and onto his left knee.

Florence clucks her tongue sympathetically, leaving a moment to retrieve a hand towel for him.

Jim eyes Bones warily and says, "Don't be mad."

"You realize that there's no way I can comply to that?" Bones hisses back and aims his glare at the bolts of the front door. "You should've told me when it happened."

"I don't want to fight about this," Jim says quietly and rests a hand on his stomach. "Bones, please. I—just let her finish explaining."

Bones says nothing. He looks entirely livid.

Jim chews on her bottom lip and makes to move away but Bones's quickly drops his arm to her shoulders, keeping her there. She looks at him questioningly.

Bones just shakes his head sharply and curls his hand over her shoulder in a silent petition for her to stay put.

Jim worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she scoots back over until they're sides are flushed again and she drops her hand down to his knee.

Florence eventually returns with that hand towel and she hands it over as she goes on to explain, "Don't be mad at Blue, Dr. Bones. In her defense, I told her not to tell anyone about what was happening. My way of doing damage control, you know? But I should've known that you'd end up in the mix. I doubt there's much she can keep from you."

"Florence, get to the point," Jim mutters as her cheeks turn pink and she glares resentfully at her friend.

Florence snorts but nods. "Anyway, I mentioned we've been doing research right? Well, turns out Mayor Treadway has a history of orchestrating things like this. It's all for political gain of course. Man's shooting for the big house, you know. We're thinking that he wants to use Blue as a way to get the big cats up in the high seats of the Federation to pay attention to him. Cause who could resist a fairytale romance, right? Especially when the two main characters got a lot of notoriety when it comes to family. And Blue, well, after what her daddy done, media would love to be all over that."

Bones's expression is worryingly blank.

"But anyway, so the thing is that Mayor Treadway is gunning for the biggest political position there is: president. He's got a good six years, though, before the reelection and let me tell you, he's trying to use that time wisely. Blue's marriage to his son would only be the first stepping stone to getting him through the door," Florence goes on to say. "And you gotta admit that he's being rather guileful about it. And not to mention the fact that Junior is supposed to take up office in his old man's place on top of Jocelyn reaching for the mayoral office in New York. Big things for the Treadway family. More good publicity. Useful in all sorts of ways if you really think about it but, you know, politics."

Bones's jaw gives a little tic and when he finally speaks, it sounds like he's talking between clenched teeth, "Does Jocelyn have anythin' to do with this?"

"Nah," Florence replies. "She divorced you and is pregnant with someone else's child. I don't think she's on Mayor Treadway's good list."

Bones nods tightly and he relaxes a fraction.

Jim tries not to let that bother her. She wonders why it would even matter to him. She pushes the thought away and says, "Tell him about your plan."

"Oh, right," Florence says as she perks up. "So I got this idea, right? About the pageant Blue's in and everything. I been collaborating with Sheriff McCoy and he thinks it's a genius idea too…" She then explains said genius plan as thoroughly and as elaborately as possible.

In the end, Bones's frown only deepens and he says, "That's clever and all. But what I'm hung up over is the blackmail part." He turns to Jim, who by this point, has been slowly drifting off to sleep. He looks down at her and his expression turns almost soft before it hardens into something more questioning. "What exactly were they blackmailin' you with?"

Jim blinks tiredly up at him. She's so not ready for this conversation and instinctively she withdraws, both physically and emotionally.

Bones's expression pinches and his brow furrows when he realizes he's not going to get an answer. "Right," he mutters. He stands and heads to the door. "I need some air."

Jim crosses her arms and she watches him exit with a miserable expression.

The door closes quietly behind him, and it's almost as bad as if he'd slammed it.

Florence just watches her with sympathetic grey eyes. "You know," she says, very carefully. "Eventually you're going to have to trust him enough to let him know about Tarsus."

Jim is being unfairly spiteful when she counters, "Well eventually _you're_ going to have to trust me enough to know about who you used to be."

Florence straightens out her posture and her expression retreats into a blank stare. "Don't," she warns. "Just don't, Jim."

Jim purses her lips and leans back with an unhappy frown. "It's ugly," she mutters. "That part of my life is so ugly. He wouldn't stick around for that."

"Tough shit," Florence says shakily. "You got a good man who'll always accept you for who you are no matter what. I don't got that same courtesy, Blue. You can be blind sometimes."

Jim glares.

"But so can I," Florence concedes and she tongues her lip piercing nervously. She looks a little skittish. "I'm a hypocrite, I know. But I have to be with you cause I want you to have everything I can't. I'm scared, Blue. Fucking frightened, okay? Part of me thinks that when I tell you who I was, you'll be like the others and you'll leave. You ain't gonna want anything to do with me."

"You can't know that."

"But I do," Florence says and she looks miserable. "Just trust me about Len. That guy's got a big heart full of feelings just for you."

Jim grows a little red. "Best friends," she mutters, like it's supposed to mean something, like it's supposed to prove a point. "Anyway," she says, ready to change subjects. "Are you going to come out to the Founder's Festival? It's running the whole weekend."

"Sure," Florence says with a shrug and she seems sincere enough. "What's your role in it?"

"Kissing booth. Only this time, Bones is going to hand out the smooches. I'll be handing out muffins," Jim explains with a slight smile.

"Oh, well, I'll definitely swing around," Florence says with a cheeky grin. She laughs and ducks when Jim throws a couch cushion at her. "Chill, Blue. I got to kiss you didn't I? I should kiss him too. Really officiate things."

Jim rolls her eyes before she curls up on the couch. "That doesn't make any sense."

"It does to me," Florence supposes as she turns on her TV and plops down beside Jim with the cushion she threw.

Jim takes the opportunity to rest her head in Florence's lap. It takes her no time to fall asleep. She's not sure how long she's under before Florence shifts away from her to go and unlock her door. She's kind of half asleep but she can smell pizza.

"_You mind vegetarian?_"

"_Nah, it's all good. I'll eat anything._"

"_Not surprisin'._" Pause. "_How long she been sleep?_"

"_Eh, maybe like two hours or so._"

Jim frowns sleepily as she recognizes Bones's voice but she's too tired to open her eyes and actually confirm it.

"_So, where'd you run off to, if you don't mind me asking?_"

"_S'fine._" Pause. "_I drove around for a bit. Ended up at the Treadway Manor but I didn't go in._"

"_But you wanted to_."

"_I wanted to._"

A hum. "_What stopped you?_"

"_Didn't think she'd take too kindly to that. So I just—I didn't. I wanted to but I didn't._"

"_Blue'll appreciate that no doubt. She's a real firecracker but she means well. She just doesn't know how to not fight her own battles, you know? It's good you didn't do anything, though. She needs to learn she can trust you to trust her._"

"_Yeah. Don't like it any less. You sure this plan of yours will work?_"

"_That's up to Blue, and I'm completely confident in her capableness._"

Silence.

"_It's not one-sided._"

"_Pardon?_"

"_The thing you and her got. It's not one-sided. Trust me. Blue and I are alike in so many ways. She practically got the same kind of tells I do. It's not one-sided._"

"_It'll be years before she tells me that, I'm sure. Woman's so goddamn stubborn. But I ain't got much room to talk either. I can be just as bad._"

"_Yeah, but she needs that though. Otherwise she could drive you off and act as ridiculous as she wants to when she's afraid of her own feelings. She ain't never had it easy, Dr. Bones. You gotta understand that. She's a fighter—it's all she knows._"

"_I understand. But I have enough sense to fight too. She's gonna figure that out._"

"_You're good for her. I always thought that._"

"_She's good for me. I always knew **that**. Even if she drives me crazy, and she does. To the end of the universe and back._"

Jim smiles and turns away from them to face the back of the couch so they can't see. "I wish you two would shut the fuck up," she complains.

"Hey, be nice," Florence reprimands. "We're bonding over your insecurities."

Jim flips her the bird.

"Rude," Florence objects. "How can you stand her lack of manners?"

"I can't."

Jim laughs and sends Bones a sleepy-eyed excuse for a glare from over her shoulder. "You're no sunshine either, Mr. Grinch."

Bones snorts but he doesn't bother to acknowledge that remark. "Come eat," he says and indicates to the open box of pizza on Florence's stove.

"Bring it to me."

"Blue, get your lazy ass up and get it yourself."

"But I'm _pregnant_," Jim whines and turns away from them again.

"God, she is just going to milk that, I swear," Florence mutters but she sounds like she's making Jim a plate so Jim doesn't bother with a reply.

Jim's drifting off to sleep again when Florence thumps her knee into her back. She makes an incoherent sound.

"Here, lazy ass," Florence says as she balances the plate on the side of Jim's face. "Now can you sit up and eat or should I do that for you too?"

"You can suck my dick," Jim mumbles and waits a few minutes before she grabs the plate as she sits up. She leans back tiredly and rubs at her eyes with both her hands as the plate sits untouched in her lap.

"You could've said thank you," Florence says as she hits the side of Jim's leg. "So rude. That's why you're gonna get so fat."

"Fuck off," Jim laughs as she kicks her leg out but Florence manages to evade it.

Bones joins her on the couch with his third plate of pizza. "Eat," he says.

Jim sticks her tongue out at him but she eats. It's actually pretty decent for a vegetarian pizza, and she figures he got it for her benefit (allergies). She would complain but it's got olives on it so she doesn't. She says, "No more Family Feud. Please. A game's on tonight anyway."

Florence makes a face. "I hate sports."

"But I'm _pregnant_."

"Oh my _God_," Florence snaps and tosses her the remote. "You're insufferable."

Jim smiles, white teeth and all, before she flips the station and turns to the game. It's NY Nicks versus OKC Thunder.

Bones and Florence watch amusedly as Jim becomes an exuberate Nicks fan—all gutter mouthed frustration and loud cheering that the neighbors can no doubt hear.

The Nicks lose. Of course they do.

That puts Jim in a terrible mood and Florence doesn't make it any better by pointing her stupid finger right in Jim's face and laughing her ass off at the indignant frustration that rests there.

Bones saves Florence from being strangled by pulling Jim to her feet and guiding her out of the apartment.

Jim can still hear Florence's intolerable cackling even when they exit the complex. She climbs into Bones's car with a frown, buckles her seatbelt and crosses her arms while she mutters under her breath.

Bones doesn't say anything about it.

888

**Tuesday – July 15th – Noon**

**Cikala Closet**

Jim doesn't let herself think about how bad of an idea this is.

This is a _very _bad idea.

But Jim is determined to see this masochist plan of hers through because it's worth a try.

Maybe.

It's just, the thing is, well, it's been eating her up inside. She's been reading up about forgiveness and things of that nature in the bible and it's been getting to her. Not that she believe in Heaven or Hell but the points that those scriptures make sound fairly valid. She feels awful and if she doesn't at least try with Zonta then it'll just continue to fester inside of her.

Jim sighs and loosens the white knuckled grip she has on the paper bag of pastries and pushes away from her parked bike. She shoves through the door and the bell chimes predictably above her head.

Ohanzee is manning the register in a way. He's sitting in the rocking chair with a smoke pipe and a good grip to his walking stick. "James," he greets under a cloud of grey smoke. "It's been so long since I've last seen you. What mischief has kept you away?"

_If only you knew_, Jim thinks, but instead she says, "The usual. You know."

"Suppose I ought to," Ohanzee supposes as he gazes at her with thoughtfully dark eyes. "You've brought treats. I'd recognize the logo on that bag anywhere."

"Uh, yeah," Jim says with a bland smile and approaches him with it as she looks around. "I brought something for everyone."

"Well," Ohanzee grunts as he hauls himself to his feet and limps over with his thudding cane. "Zuhi is away. As she always is. Zonta is out back on a smoking break. Shall I call her up?"

"No," Jim hastily replies. She blushes a little when Ohanzee gives her a look. "I mean—I can go back and see her myself."

Ohanzee hums thoughtfully before he rifles through the bag, pulling free a glazed bear claw and returning to the rocking chair.

Jim waves weakly as she treks to the back, past the boxes of clothes and sewing machines, to the open back door of the shop.

Zonta's leaning against the brick wall with a cigarette in one hand and her communicator in the other. She doesn't look up when Jim approaches her, almost like she's expecting it.

"I got some sweets. I didn't know what you liked so I nicked a few things," Jim says for the better lack of not having much else to say. She feels stupid for this. It's a stupid way to try and apologize. "I am sorry, you know. For how I—for what I did."

Zonta snorts scornfully and she finally lifts her gaze. "You're not sorry. You just hate that I found out," she corrects and shrugs before she takes another drag of her cigarette. "You shouldn't waste your time with me. I can't see us ever bein' friends."

"Zonta, you have to know that I didn't intentionally do it to hurt you or spite you," Jim says. "It was a dick move on my part though. I know that. I really should've—but I didn't and I am sorry about that."

Zonta stares at her evenly as she puffs away at her cigarette. She says, "My mom used to tell us stories when we were younger. There's one about a scorpion that rode on the back of a frog across the river. The scorpion stung the frog even after he promised not to." She flicks the ash off to the side as she stares at Jim. "I think about that story a lot."

Jim doesn't know what to say.

Zonta lifts her cigarette to her lips and says, "You should probably go."

Jim does. What else can she do? She leaves the bag of pastries with Ohanzee, who thanks her graciously, and she exits the shop. She goes to her bike and drives to the local diner to pick up two orders of chili before she drives it out to the edge of town where the McCoy Clinic is. She parks and carries the bag of food inside to the reception area, where she finds a glowing Asiyah.

That's when she notices the engagement ring.

"Congratulations. When is the wedding? You're marrying Tomoharu right? When did he propose?"

Asiyah laughs good-naturedly. "So many questions," she says and lets Jim grab her hand and study the diamond ring. "No date yet. And yes, Tomo proposed. Sunday."

"Cool. You know that's cool right?" Jim asks and grins when Asiyah shrugs coyly. "Where's Dr. Sourpuss?"

"In the lab," Asiyah says and guides her there so she can use her keycard to give Jim access.

Jim finds Bones at the other end of the lab, studying some kind of blood work with a white lab coat on and blue latex gloves and the use of biotechnology. He's glancing back and forth between the samples on the interactive table and the large touchscreen monitors propped on the wall.

"Who let you in?" is the first thing Bones says when he sees her. He goes right back to doing what he's doing, partially ignoring her for a moment as he pulls up the molecular DNA structure of the blood he's studying.

Jim watches him for a moment before she says, "Asiyah. Did you know she's getting married? I didn't even know things were getting that serious between her and Tomoharu. But good for them, right? True love prevails and all that."

Bones grunts before he spins around to face her fully. He looks to the bag of food in her hand and then up to study her face.

Jim smiles.

Bones shakes his head. "What's the matter?" he asks as he stands and approaches her.

Jim's smile falters before completely dipping into a frown. "How can you tell when something's wrong?"

Bones shrugs as he takes the bag of food from her and fishes for his cup of chili. "You like to act especially cheerful when you're bothered about somethin'. So what did it this time?"

Jim gets that warm feeling again—the one that bubbles up in her heart and her gut. It disappears before she can make sense of it. She doesn't really want to. She says, "So Zonta used to—still has—like a massive crush on you and I knew that long before things between us evolved and she found out and confronted me and I confirmed her suspicions and I've been trying to apologize but she doesn't want to hear it and—"

"You should probably breathe," Bones suggests, amused. He dips his plastic spoon in his cup of chili and begins eating it as he stands before her. "Why are you so worked up about it, anyway?"

"Temporary insanity?" Jim tries, vaguely aware that she might be blowing this way out of proportion. "And maybe because it _was_ a shitty thing to do," she mutters as she frowns at him. "I basically fucked her dream guy and then turned around and encouraged her to pursue a relationship with said dreamy guy."

Bones makes a face. He looks as if he doesn't know whether to be extremely amused or uncomfortable. He chooses the former. "I wasn't aware that Zonta had feelings for me," he says after a swallow. "She's been good about hidin' it."

"Well, yeah, because first you were married and then you weren't and I had to go and jump you." Jim rubs at the side of her nose out of frustration. "I've always had poor impulse control. And you certainly didn't help with your stupid face and…" She does a rather weird miming gesture.

Bones snorts and pushes her shoulder just to watch her stumble and glare at him for it. "So this is all my fault, huh?"

"Yes."

Bones continues to eat his chili.

Jim flushes as she says, "You're _attractive_, okay? Like unfairly so."

Bones smirks and Jim wants to punch him for it. "To be fair," he drawls. "You're _attractive _too. You claim poor impulse control, but I ain't never been a stranger to temptation when it comes to you."

Jim's flush deepens and she tries to shrug like she doesn't care.

"The point is, just, you know, don't be so hard on yourself. Takes two, don't it?" Bones offers as he continues to eat his chili.

Jim refuses to acknowledge that his words are severely comforting. She frowns and says, "I'm still the bad guy as far as Zonta's concerned."

"You apologized."

"Failingly."

"You win some and you lose some."

"I don't like to _lose_."

"Well then I don't know what to tell you."

Jim shrugs and lowers her gaze. "She'd hate me less if you asked her out?"

Bones makes a face. "That's not a good idea."

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because it wouldn't be the least bit honest," Bones drawls pessimistically.

"Yeah but—"

"I'm not interested," Bones says, like it's final.

Jim crosses her arms and glares. "You never want to help me with anything."

Bones rolls his eyes and trashes his cup of chili. "You're bein' unreasonable. You've done all you can. Why are you pushin' me to date her?"

Jim shifts and turns her gaze elsewhere. "Maybe because you might like it? I don't know. You and I aren't—and she's a better fit for you, I think. And, anyway, it's not about her forgiving me so much as it is me trying to help you find someone you can—"

Bones kisses her when she doesn't expect it. His frustration bleeds into it, all tongue and teeth and greed and _definite_ possessiveness.

It makes Jim breathless and weak-kneed. She ultimately forgets everything but her own name.

Bones pulls back and drags her with him when he goes to sit down on his leather stool. He settles her onto his lap and says, "You should eat."

Jim swallows and nods. She grabs her cup of cooled chili, adding crackers and sour cream and sugar, before she wolfs it down. She watches Bones continue his research and she asks him questions here and there, fascinated by the way he explains things with the same level of focus and concentration he gives her when they're in bed together.

She doesn't bring up Zonta again.

888

**Friday – July 17th – 8 p.m.**

**Founder's Festival**

The thing about Jim's booth is that it's a lot less showy than the other girls' booths. She doesn't bother with glitter or sparkles or any manner of attention grabbers.

What she does do, however, is label the stand ridiculously with Florence's help.

'Dr. Sweet Kisses'

It makes Jim want to laugh and vomit every time she thinks about it.

Bones just rolls his eyes when he sees what she and Florence keep snickering about. After a while, he grudgingly starts to chuckle too.

When Eleanora and Pauline arrive with baskets upon baskets of muffins, they don't look the least bit surprised at the nature of the sign overhead. They just go about propping the muffins in a orderly and neatly fashion.

Jim snags an apple cinnamon one and eats it, reluctantly sharing when Bones implores her to. He better be lucky that he's her best friend because otherwise she would've just given him the middle finger and stuffed the whole thing in her mouth. Okay, that's something she'd probably still do regardless because she is greedy.

Maybe the best part about all this, outside of the fact that she gets the most customers out of all the other girls, is how uncomfortable and pink Bones gets when the customers return for _him _rather than the muffins.

Jim doesn't blame any of them because on top of being attractive, Bones has the most kissable lips in the world. It's pretty much unfair but Jim is competitive and she likes to win—even if that means whoring out Bones's lips. She laughs at the scowl Bones sends her way when she tells him this but he only proves her point when he turns and kisses an elderly lady on her cheek.

Bones refuses to kiss anyone on the lips because that's the type of guy he is. He had put his foot down when Jim first brought up the issue and she let it go when she saw he wouldn't be swayed. Sure, they would've made more money, but Bones is already uncomfortable and Jim isn't going to push.

Besides, they're already blowing the other stands out of the water as is with Bones's cheek kisses and Jim's clever mixed-flavor muffins.

Florence sticks around to watch Bones squirms, and also to help Jim pass out muffins to the insatiable crowds. They run out of muffins an hour before the festival shuts down for the night and Eleanora and Pauline have to right down some backorders for the next night because there's such a high demand for them.

Jim is so fucking pleased with herself it's unreal.

Once the booth is cleared out, everyone goes their separate ways for the night.

Jim carpools with Bones and he drives her to the local ice cream parlor. It's undeniably suspicious and Jim refuses to enter the place until Bones explains why they're there in the first place.

"Christ, Jim. Quit bein' so paranoid," Bones complains as Jim leans against his car with her arms crossed. "They're gonna close at midnight, which is a good hour from now. I'd like to get what I came for before then if you don't mind."

Jim's lips twist and she narrows her gaze. "Why do I have to go inside? I don't want any ice cream," she lies.

"What does it matter?" Bones says as he tucks his hands in his pockets and looks at her with raised eyebrows. "You'd rather just sit in the car while I go have my fill?"

"It's too much," Jim blurts and she flushes when he stares at her in confusion. "The whole—you know. It's a cozy setting and, um, it's—you know."

Bones furrows his brow. "I'm not gettin' what you're tryin' to tell me," he says, honestly. "All I know is that after what you put me through tonight, I'd very much like to have some ice cream from my favorite ice cream place while I still can. It's all been rather traumatizin' for me."

Jim feels foolish and she's sure she's got the skin to match. "Oh. Um." She fidgets. "I thought—um, it's not a date?"

Bones looks at her for a long time before his lips start to curl.

Jim suddenly feels mortified by her own behavior.

Bones chuckles and shakes his head as he slides closer and presses her into his car. "So this whole struggle has been because you thought this was some kind of impromptu date?" he reasons.

Jim wants to sink into the ground and shrivel into nothing. "Maybe?"

Bones responds by kissing her, deeply and thoroughly, until she's lightheaded and has no room to feel embarrassed or foolish, just extremely turned on.

Jim comes to her senses after a while and she scowls, shoving at him until he lets up. "I was rightly suspicious," she argues.

"No, you're ridiculous," Bones murmurs against her cheek and, again, it should be an insult but he makes it sound like a compliment. He pulls away with a grin and tangles his fingers with hers. "Now stop wastin' my time with your fallacies and come on."

Jim frowns and lets him drag her inside.

It's pretty empty, and that's probably because it's late.

The walls are lined with small whirring ice cream pods, all separated and labeled in individual flavors.

Jim is too busy studying the layout to complain about the fact that Bones pays the fees for the both of them.

Bones presses a small carton in her hands with a spoon before shoving her towards the pods.

Jim kicks at him before she wanders off to find a flavor that suits her tastes. Turns out it takes the layering of several flavors to quench her cravings. Starting from the bottom, the sequence goes: peanut butter, chocolate, coconut, watermelon, cherry, chocolate (again), and finally, at the very top, apple.

Bones lifts a brow with an amused expression when he's seen the monstrosity she's thrown together. His mix is a lot more simple—banana and vanilla.

"You're boring," Jim remarks as she shoves a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.

Bones just shrugs as he watches her. "Your adventurous enough for the both of us," he supposes.

Jim frowns around her spoon and she considers correcting him because there really isn't an 'us' but she lets it go in favor of stuffing her mouth with more ice cream. Besides, he probably didn't mean it how it sounded.

Bones continues watching her eat as they sit across from each other in a vinyl booth.

It doesn't bother Jim when it should, but again, with Bones, she likes that he never acts how she expects him to. "Eat your ice cream boring man," she orders, pointing her wet spoon at him before she dives back into her own.

Bones's lips curl and his hazel eyes twist with something soft and sentimental before he finally looks away with a snort and does what he's told.

Jim gets that warm feeling again. It settles over her shoulders like a cape and compels her to entwine her legs and feet with his under the table. And if that makes Bones look at her with a stupidly fond look of his, well, she pretends not to notice.

They leave the parlor when they finish their ice cream and head back to the house.

Jim falls asleep during the trip and Bones has the audacity to carry her into the house (bridal-style), even when she squirms and assures him she's conscious enough to walk herself. She huffs and glares at him when he drops her down on the bed and disappears into the bathroom. She takes that time to change into some sleepwear and grab her PADD, bringing it back to the bed with her as she settles under the covers.

Bones reappears a good thirty minutes later, rubbing his stomach with a frown.

Jim snickers and says, "Close the door. I don't want to smell whatever you just did in there."

Bones just grunts but he closes the door before he starts to strip down to his underwear and joins her on the bed.

Jim is playing a word phrase game and his near nakedness is distracting. She shoves the PADD at him as she gets up to open the windows. "Solve that," she simply instructs.

Bones huffs and rolls onto his back as he examines the screen with thoughtfulness. Not even five seconds later, her PADD chimes in commission with the correct answer he's managed to figure out.

Jim returns to the bed and curls against him so that she can see the screen too. "What was it? I couldn't figure that one out."

"Led by the nose."

Jim makes a face. "That's stupid."

"It's a phrase."

Jim hums as she throws her leg over his waist and says, "Mixed reviews."

"Would you give me a chance to figure it out?" Bones complains as he types it in.

Jim smiles cheerfully and says, "Nope."

Bones sighs and quickly turns away from her when the next puzzle comes up on the screen.

Jim laughs and kicks him. "Cheater. Let me see."

"No."

"Come _on_, Bones. Don't be like that. I can help."

"You're a competitive showoff. I don't want your help."

"Oh _whatever_." Jim straddles his side as she tries to wrestle it out of his hand. "Stop, you—it's _my _PADD."

"Don't be a brat," Bones grunts as he twists under her and holds the device from her reach. "Let me see it."

"No. Give it here if you can't—stop! I swear to God if you break my stuff."

"I won't break anythin' if _you _just move."

Jim bites his left shoulder and he jerks with a low curse, accidently dropping her PADD. "See! I told you that—"

Bones rolls and pins Jim onto her back. "That's all your fault, you damn biter."

Jim sticks out her tongue at him and he follows the wet muscle back into her mouth with his own.

The PADD lays forgotten on the floor for the rest of the night.

888

**Monday – July 20th – Noon**

**Treadway Manor**

It's much like the introductory brunch, only the opposite.

So maybe more like an exiting brunch?

All Jim knows is that this is the moment that all the ladies having been waiting for. The moment that will name the three finalists to the competition. Jim's keeping a level head about it, mostly because she's too busy thinking about the good luck kiss Bones gave her this morning. And when she says good luck kiss she really means that he performed a fairly enthusiastic (and frankly rather toe-curling) cunnilingus on her.

Jim sighs and crosses her legs, leaning against the arm of the chair as she pops another green grape in her mouth. She's sitting between Serene and Allison as she listens to the idle chit-chat of all the ladies.

There's a growing sense of nausea building up in her gut, unfortunately, because she forgot to take her medicine this morning and she won't be able to take the missed dose until the next morning, otherwise it would throw her body off in a not so good way. Jim hopes she doesn't projectile vomit unexpectedly because that would be beyond mortifying.

Jocelyn finally walks to the middle of the floor and motions for the attention of the room. "Ladies," she says with a sugary sweet tone that Jim doesn't buy for a second. "Firstly, I would like acknowledge our judges and the efforts they've made to make this competition as spectacular as all the others, so please, a round of applause for Reverend Nolan, Ms. Rosemary, and Mrs. Gloria Albright."

Every claps quaintly before the noise settles down.

Reverend Nolan, who's sitting on the other side of the room with the mothers, exclaims, "And a round of applause for the woman who held it all together, our former Ms. Hudson Hill!"

Jocelyn waves him off with a timid smile that's completely insincere as everyone gives her a heavy amount of applause. "Oh stop," she says and grins coyly before she continues, "But really, you young, wonderful, nubile minds, you're the one that deserves the most applause. Without your tenacity and deliberation, there would be no tradition to stand on. So give yourselves a round of applause, you've all been lovely."

Everyone claps again before the noise settles down.

"Now, the moment I'm sure you've all been expecting," Jocelyn goes on to say. "The judges and I have thought long and hard because all of you are unique and special in your own way." She straightens her posture and Jim can't help but to notice the slight bump that protrudes from under her silk blouse. She's beginning to show. "So without further ado, I would like to announce this year's finalists." She pauses for dramatic affect.

Allison grips Jim's wrist anxiously while Serene snorts sardonically.

Jim is just trying to keep her breakfast down.

"Zonta Sihasapa," Jocelyn announces and everyone claps.

Zonta looks notably pleased and she accepts the congratulations of her peers graciously.

"Allison Loftus," Jocelyn announces next and the applause is a little bit more reluctant.

Allison looks both surprised and thrilled. She looks to Jim for confirmation and Jim smiles with a nod. She squeals and hugs Jim around her neck tightly.

Jim pats Allison on the back awkwardly.

Serene even leans over and flicks Allison on the nose as her own way of congratulations.

"And lastly," Jocelyn smile falters slightly. "James Kirk."

Everyone claps and their cheers are pretty genuine, which is surprising to Jim, even though her name being announced isn't. She's worked really hard to get to this point, albeit for a different cause than her original one, but all the same.

Jocelyn lifts a hand and the noise quiets down. She says, "Ladies, from this point on, your main focus will be preparing for the Ms. Hudson Hill Debutante Ball, and your closing speeches, which will be given on the 31st of this month." She makes an indication to the other side of the room. "Mrs. Gloria Albright will be your dancing matron. She will coach you through the Hudson Hill Waltz, which you will be expected to perfect and perform on the day of the ball. Your grace and capability in this front will be just one of the many determining factors that may or may not place you in the position of Ms. Hudson Hill, so I encourage you to take these practice sessions very seriously. Gloria?"

Gloria waddles over and garners the attention of the room. "As Joyce has already explained, I'll be guidin' you through the steps. Now it's a bit different this year since the ball will be held in the Town Square Park. But we'll adjust. All I can say is that, startin' Friday, we'll commence with the sessions at exactly seven p.m. sharp. You and your chosen escort should come to the Rec Center, and we'll go from there. Once again, I want to congratulate you." She nods with a slight wave before she wanders off.

"And to all the ladies," Jocelyn adds. "Thank you for participating. You were all wonderful."

Everyone claps before they all begin to disperse.

Jim can't stick around for the chitchat. She has to pee or vomit or possibly both. It's hard for her to reach the bathroom because different people who want to congratulate her keep stopping her. She manages to get away before she vomits over Reverend Nolan and Caroline McCoy.

When she reaches the bathroom, she grabs a small trashcan, sends up a prayer for forgiveness, and sits down on the toilet so she can pee. She throws up in the trashcan as she empties her bladder at the same time and her stomach twists in a painful way. She gags a bit more but nothing else comes up. She sets the trashcan down and pushes it off to the side with her foot as she starts gathering some tissue in her hand. She flushes the toilet once she's done, goes to the sink to rinse her mouth out and exits the bathroom.

Eleanora and Pauline are on the other side of the dining room and they don't miss the quick signal she gives to them. They excuse themselves and flock to her side.

Jim follows them out to Eleanora's truck and they climb in together, driving into town to a small minimart for her sake.

Eleanora and Pauline promise to return, disappearing in the small shop to purchase some natural stomach soothers for Jim.

Jim takes the time to lift her hips and fish her communicator out the back pocket of her beige dress pants. She comms Bones and says, "I forgot to take my medicine and I'm sick and miserable."

Bones looks concerned, even as Saturn knocks his long nose into the side of his head affectionately. He pets the horse and says, "You alright? You need me to come get you or—"

"Nah," Jim says as she leans back and presses a hand to her forehead. There's a slight migraine building up between her ears. "We're on our way back to the house now. I'm just telling you because I want you to be miserable too."

Bones smiles slightly before he sobers, "What'll make you feel better?"

"Foot rub and a whole lot of attention?"

Bones snorts. "I'll see what I can do with the skills I have."

Jim gives a serious nod and watches through the windshield as Eleanora and Pauline exit the minimart. "I gotta go but I'll see you." She cuts the connection just as they climb into the truck.

Pauline shoves a can of ginger ale in her hands.

Jim drinks it through the ride back to the house and it helps some of the nausea subside.

Eleanora and Pauline tuck away in the kitchen to make some homemade soup for the house.

Jim wanders up to her room and kicks off her heels when she gets there. She climbs into her bed and makes a pile of pillows against the headboard so she can prop herself up against them. She unbuttons her blouse and her dress pants, exposing her bare abdomen so she can see if she spot any differences.

She doesn't.

Her stomach is still as flat as it's always been, giving no indication to the fact that she is pregnant. She wonders when she'll start to show. She's curious to know what she'll look like.

Bones enters her room right when Jim is in the middle of doing the moonwalk with two of her fingers across her stomach. "What are you doin'?"

Jim shrugs. "Bored. Waiting for you. Trying to see if I'm fat yet." She looks up at him and smiles. "I'm not."

"Eager?"

Jim shrugs again. "Come rub my feet."

Bones snorts and says, "I need a shower first. I've been clearin' out the stables."

Jim wrinkles her nose. "Yeah, I wasn't going to say anything. You smell like shit," she comments and laughs when he gives her a look.

"Maybe I oughta give you a hug, roll around in your sheets, how about that?" Bones drawls as he takes a threatening step towards the bed.

Jim throws a pillow at him but he easily dodges it. "Don't you dare, cowboy," she warns but she's grinning. "Go take your fucking shower so you can come back and take care of me."

Bones scoffs but he pulls his tank top over his head, exposing his sweaty chest and toned stomach.

Jim doesn't even care that she's staring.

Bones unbuckles his pants and wanders into her bathroom out of Jim's line of sight.

Jim tries not to pout in disappointment. She grabs her PADD from the nightstand and plays as many rounds of Tetris it takes to wait patiently for Bones to return.

She plays fifteen (two minute) games back to back.

Bones reappears with a towel around his waist while he dries his hair with another.

Jim watches him swagger around the room from over the top of her PADD. She bites her bottom lip when he finally drops the towel from his waist and starts getting dressed in a pair of grey slacks and a black button down. "Why so snazzy?" she asks as he climbs onto the bed and sits down by her feet.

Bones grabs her left foot and rubs it down. "Dixie and Clay are holdin' a funeral for their child this afternoon."

Jim stiffens noticeably. "Today?"

Bones nods and watches her.

"They—there's—" Jim stops because she's not sure what she's trying to say. She's kind of befuddled. "Should I, um, you know?"

Bones shakes his head as he continues to massage her foot. "It's a private funeral. Only close family members and friends."

"I thought I was one," Jim mutters and she winces at her own tone. "Sorry, that's—petty. It's fine. I probably shouldn't go anyway. Don't think I could stomach it."

Bones nods in agreement. "Not really feelin' up to it either, but, can't exactly say no to somethin' like this when I'm asked outright." He sighs and reaches for her other foot.

"Is Eleanora going?"

Bones nods. "Joyce is gonna drop Joanna off here since Pauline volunteered to watch her. So you ain't gonna be here by yourself."

It is slightly comforting.

Jim watches him. "Are you gonna be okay?" she asks because she does wonder.

Bones shrugs. "Hard to say. Guess I'll know when it all comes down to it."

Jim wiggles her mouth thoughtfully. "Well," she says quietly and avoids his gaze. "Jellybean and I will be here when you get back. So, um, remember that." She can feel her face heating up and she's not trying to be sentimental or anything but Bones is her friend, her best friend, and she should try to be supportive and stuff.

Bones crawls up and kisses her and that doesn't help her blush at all but she does feel slightly less stupid. He presses a hand to her lower stomach and his fingers twitch. He doesn't usually touch her stomach, which Jim had found surprising at first, but there are those rare moment where he will.

Jim pulls back a fraction and presses her lips to the corner of his mouth before she shoves him away with a grin. "I didn't say you could stop rubbing," she points out bossily.

Bones huffs but he moves back and pulls her feet into his lap again.

Jim goes back to her game of Tetris and they sit quietly with each other until Eleanora brings up a bowl of soup.

Bones leaves with his mother when she tells him that Jocelyn and Joanna are downstairs waiting for him.

Jim sips away at her soup as she listens to the voices downstairs. She can't make out what they're saying but she knows whom they belong to. A few moments later she feels the house tremble slightly when the front door slams shut, followed by the sound of a car engine starting and driving off. She finishes her soup and sets the empty bowl on her nightstand to settle down for a nap.

She's not sure how long she sleeps for but Joanna climbs in the bed with her, grabbing her cheeks in her small hands. She whispers, "Ms. Jim—you wanna watch a movie with me and Ms. Pauline?"

Jim blinks tiredly before she stretches with a long yawn. "Yeah, sure. Give me a minute okay?"

Joanna nods excitedly and crawls out of the bed to exit the room.

Jim snorts and rubs at her eyes before she sits up. She glances at the digital clock on her nightstand as she buttons up her blouse and it reads seven p.m. in big blocky numbers. She sighs and stretches again as she trudges to her bathroom to pee. After she washes her hands, she exits her room and heads down the hall to Eleanora's room.

Joanna and Pauline are sitting on Eleanora's bed with a bowl of popcorn and M&M's between them.

Jim grabs one of Eleanora's silk body pillows and brings it down to the edge of the bed with her.

They watch Monster's Inc. because that's Joanna's favorite movie.

Jim has to admit that the little girl in the movie reminds her a lot of Joanna, so she can see why Joanna would like it so much. She falls asleep on the part where Sully passes out dramatically for the third time.

When she wakes up, she's back in her own room. She's lying on her back with her blouse riding up around her ribs while Bones presses his left ear to the skin of her lower stomach. She shifts and tangles her finger into his neatly combed hair. "Hey," she rasps, voice still laced heavily with thick exhaustion. "When did you get back?"

"Couple of hours ago," Bones say quietly as he peers up at her from where he's resting his head. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"S'fine," Jim assures and yawns again as she scratches her blunt nails against his scalp. "You okay?"

Bones's mouth shifts down into a scowl. "I couldn't stop thinkin' about you and the baby the whole time I was at the ceremony," he admits. "I wanted to call and check on you, just to—" He stops and his frown deepens. "I'm bein' ridiculous," he supposes.

Jim shakes her head and combs her fingers through his hair. "I think that's normal. It got to me to when I found out."

Bones says nothing to that. Instead, he reports, "Things were fine at first. Dixie was a wreck, but that's to be expected. Then when we went back to the Treadway Manor after the burial for dinner, that's when it all got ugly."

"Tell me about it," Jim says as she continues to comb her fingers through his hair.

"Well, for one, Dixie and Joyce got into a huge fight because she let it slip that she's considerin' an abortion. Dixie didn't take too kindly to that, of course, why would she? After she went through what she did, well, it's no wonder why she startin' raisin' hell about it. She screamed at Joyce and called her selfish and stupid and Joyce yelled right back at her that she can't share in on Dixie's guilt. Then their mother tried to get between them but she was fairly drunk by this point and Dixie turned her anger onto her, callin' her a no good drunk and a pedophile. Chadwick tried to step in but Dixie spit on him and took a swing and Clay had to quickly get between them because it looked like Chadwick was seriously considerin' takin' a swing back. Then Mayor Treadway started shoutin' at all of them about what a disappointment they are and Joyce used curse words I didn't even know she knew and Dixie sobbed her eyes out and told her dad to stick his fist where the sun don't shine cause he's never cared about her and that it's always been about Joyce and Chadwick and she's just the unwanted middle child and her mother tried to calm her down but she ended up vomitin' all over Dixie and passin' out at her feet."

"Oh my God," Jim breathes as she takes it in. She laughs a little disbelievingly. "That is unreasonably dysfunctional."

Bones hums in agreement. "I stuck to the sidelines because I didn't wanna think about what I would've done if I got involved. You can imagine that I'm not too happy with any of them, especially after what you and Florence told me. So I kept my mouth shut and thought about what you told me. That'd you be right here waitin' for me."

Jim gets that warm feeling again. It starts at her toes and spreads up until it reaches the very top of her head. She's not sure what to do with it, so she just says nothing and continues to stroke her fingers through his hair as he closes his eyes and listens. For what, Jim's not sure, but she knows it has something to do with their child.

Bones stays like this for a good hour before he gets up to strip out of his clothes and down to his underwear. He slides back into bed beside her on his stomach and faces the windows.

Jim decides to follow his lead and she climbs out of her clothes and puts on one of his large t-shirts. She crawls back into bed and lies on her side facing the opposite wall. She shifts and tries to get comfortable as she hugs a pillow to her chest. She ends up scooting back until she's got her spine pressed into Bones's side and she smiles slightly when he playfully kicks her.

She prays that night, not for herself, but for Dixie because what else can be done?

888

**Wednesday – July 22nd – 3 p.m.**

Jim has her second prenatal appointment with Dr. Yolanda Becker. Only difference this time is that Bones is right there with her.

After a few brief basic tests and preliminary questions, Dr. Becker has Jim take off her shirt and lie back on the biobed so they can do an ultrasound.

Jim is nervous and excited. She rests a hand behind her head as the other clasps tightly with Bones's, who's standing to her immediate right looking like he'd prefer to be the one to initiate the procedure.

Dr. Becker puts on a pair of blue latex gloves before she squirts some clear jelly-like liquid on Jim's stomach. She then removes her gloves and grabs her sleek tricorder and points to the bio-function monitors above Jim's head. "You ready?" she asks them.

Jim squeezes Bones's fingers as her heart speeds up in anticipation. She exhales quietly before she nods.

Dr. Becker smiles knowingly before she waves her medical wand over Jim's midsection.

Suddenly, a thudding heartbeat, like the trotting hooves of a horse, fills the vast space of the room.

Jim's breath hitches and tears begin to build up in the corner of her eyes. She exhales shakily and quickly covers her face with her hands as she begins to sob. "Oh God, I'm crying," she moans woefully. "That's extremely lame."

Dr. Becker chuckles and says, "That's completely normal. You're hearin' your baby's heart for the first time. It'll get to you."

Jim nods behind her hands as more tears escape. She shudders when she feels Bones rub her shoulder consolingly. When she peeks out from between her fingers up at him, she sees the utter wonder written in proud lines around his comely face.

"How far along is she?" Bones asks as he glances up at the monitors where the baby's vitals can be seen alongside Jim's.

"Six weeks, I'd say," Dr. Becker says and Jim thinks she's only confirming his suspicions because he doesn't seem any particular way about it. "Ya'll ready to see the little angel?"

Jim swallows and drops her hands as she nods, as does Bones.

Dr. Becker waves her medical wand and presses a few buttons before a virtual ultrasound of the fetus comes to life right above Jim's belly. It spins slowly, like clockwork, showing every fascinating detail.

Jim is so enthralled that she might fucking cry again. She reaches out tentatively and prods at the virtual display and it zooms in on the fetus, showcasing the umbilical chord, the placenta, the arm and leg buds, and all the other developing tissue which looks to be no bigger than a quarter of an inch long, about the size of a lentil.

"Beautiful, right?" Dr. Becker says with a smile.

Jim nods distractedly. She can't take her eyes off of it. "What's the gender?"

"Well, I don't know," Dr. Becker says slyly as she gazes over at Bones. "Would you like to tell her Dr. McCoy?"

Jim frowns and she looks over at Bones, who snorts and looks caught. She lifts an eyebrow expectantly.

Bones fidgets but his lips are twitching with a slightly proud grin and he mutters, "Girl."

"This man has such a soft spot for them," Dr. Becker remarks cheerfully. "He probably prayed for it."

Bones flushes and he scowls. "Don't go makin' assumptions, Yolanda," he gripes.

"Not an assumption, sugah. Facts are facts," Dr. Becker easily counters.

Bones just grumbles but he's easily distracted by the virtual ultrasound hovering over Jim's belly.

"Well, in any case, based on what I can see from these readings, there's a definite chance she'll have her momma's gorgeous blue eyes," Dr. Becker notes.

"We figured as much," Bones remarks but he's grinning slightly.

Dr. Becker nods and goes on to say, "So when should we schedule your next appointment?"

Jim and Bones share a look. She says, "We might want to hold off on that. I, that is, we were talking about relocating to California."

"Ah. Gonna have you a Cali baby, hm?" Dr. Becker supposes with an amused tone. "Well, that's all fine. Just send me pictures if you can. When do you think you'll be leaving?"

"August maybe? Nothing is set in stone yet. We're still playing with dates," Jim says as she sits up with Bones's help.

Dr. Becker hands her some napkins so she can clean her stomach.

Jim pulls on her shirt when she's done. She thanks Dr. Becker and offers a quick goodbye before she follows Bones out the room. She watches as he glances down at his watch with an unhappy frown. "You have to get back to work, don't you?" she guesses.

Bones nods and rubs the back of his neck. "You need me to take off?" he asks, watching her carefully.

"Nah." Jim smiles because she kind of means it. "I'll see you later anyway." She shrugs. "I'm gonna go hang out with Florence. Gorge myself on chocolate things and olives."

"Stay out of trouble," Bones says as he kisses her cheek and heads down the hall to his office.

"Yeah, whatever. Start thinking of names," Jim calls after him. She snorts as she watches him disappear and feels indescribably happy.

888

**Friday – July 24th – 7 p.m.**

**Hudson Hill Rec Center**

"This is going to be so awkward," Jim decides as she follows Bones into the building.

"Don't think about it," is Bones's profoundly dumb advice.

"_You_ don't think about it," Jim petulantly replies as they walk down the hall towards the gymnasium.

"Okay," Bones easily counters.

Jim scoffs and throws a light punch into his side.

Bones swats her on the ass and smirks when she glares.

Jim is about to fuss at him for it but the vending machines lining the walls distract her. "I'm hungry," she announces.

"I told you we could've stop," Bones says in a semi-annoyed tone.

"Well I wasn't hungry then. I'm hungry now. Buy me some candy."

"Buy yourself some."

"But I'm _pregnant_," Jim whines quietly.

"I'm aware." Bones continues on without her.

Jim wants to throw a shoe at his head but she settles for buying his favorite candy (sour gummy worms) and vows _not _to share any. She joins him in the gymnasium under the bright lights and buzzing scoreboards. She's tempted to grab one of the basketballs and shoot hoops but she just wanders over to where Mrs. Gloria Albright is chatting him up.

Apparently they're the first to arrive.

Jim tears open her box of gummy worms and flocks to Bones's right as he politely nods along to whatever it is Gloria is yammering about. Probably gossip.

Gloria turns her gaze to Jim and says, "Well look at you. Salt of the Earth, you are. You ready to learn the fine art of waltzin'?"

Jim shrugs and shoves a gummy worm in her mouth.

Gloria is unsatisfied by this response and so she takes to just glancing between them. "So Mr. McCoy is your escort. How interestin'. How'd this come about?"

Jim presses away an amused smile as she chews. The woman is obviously fishing for information.

Bones decides to intervene. He indicates to the entrance doors of the gymnasium and says, "I think I see the others comin' in."

Gloria turns with an unhappy frown but she waddles over to where Allison Loftus is entering with a young man that Jim doesn't really recognize.

"Nice save," Jim compliments.

Bones shrugs and makes to grab one of her gummy worms but she pulls it from his reach.

"Nope," Jim says firmly. "You get _none_."

"Sharin' is carin', darlin'," Bones says in a honeyed tone.

Jim just laughs right in his face and shoves more gummy worms in her mouth. "That's why I'm only sharing with myself," she counters.

"You're so goddamn greedy."

Jim sticks her tongue out at him and moves to join the others as he follows.

Allison beams excitedly at her. "Hey ya'll," she greets. She indicates to her male companion and says, "This is my boyfriend, Rocky. Rocky, this is Jim and her escort, um, I'm sorry, I don't—your name is slippin' my mind."

"Leonard McCoy," Bones offers as he reaches forward and shakes hands with him.

"Oh, are we doin' introductions?" a voice says and they all turn to see Chadwick striding forward with Zonta under his arm. "I'd hate to miss out on that."

Bones stiffens and Jim strangles the gummy worm in her hand.

Allison huffs. "We all know who _you _are, Chadwick. There's no need."

"Shame," Chadwick says and he flicks his gaze over to Jim.

Bones's jaw gives a noticeable tic.

"Well, um, I'm Rocky," Rocky says, needlessly, but he's basically ignored.

Zonta crosses her arms and shoots quick glances over to Bones.

Jim fidgets and tries not to feel any which way about any of it.

The next moments are spent with them eyeing each other.

Gloria frowns bemusedly and says, "Let's get started, shall we? Ya'll line up. The gentlemen across from the ladies. Arm's length apart."

Jim sucks the sour sugar from her fingers and she jams the small box in her back pocket so she can stand across from Bones.

Allison stands in the middle and Zonta flocks her other side.

Across from them stands Rocky and Chadwick.

Gloria stands at the end where Chadwick and Zonta are and says, "Now the Hudson Hill Waltz is a very old-style dance. It began as a courtly sort of dance, so it's quite intimate. I hope you're with someone who you don't mind sharin' such affections." She waddles down the middle and goes on to say, "The dance is not just about the movement that happens with the feet but the story that goes on between the eyes. While maintainin' a blank expression, you must tell a story with your eyes. Convince the audience of your chemistry and the rest will follow. Now, the ladies will courtesy."

Jim's lips twist amusedly as she shares a look with Bones but she courtesies.

"Very good," Gloria says as she watches them all. "And now the gentlemen will bow."

Bones gives a very graceful bow as he maintains eye contact with Jim.

"Excellent. Keep your eyes on each other," Gloria advises as she walks outside of them. "Step forward—gentlemen, put your left hand on the small of her back. Ladies, put your left hand on their left shoulder, right on that curve. Good. And with your right hands, clasp them together and hold them out just so, make sure it aligns to your chin and the space between your chests. Your chests must never touch, this is a courtly dance. No sex business."

Jim snorts as she follows the instructions and gazes at Bones. "This is too much," she whispers. "I don't dance."

"You'll learn," Bones murmurs back, like he's sure of it. "Now be quiet and listen."

Jim makes a face at him but she does as she's told.

Gloria makes her way over to them and corrects their stance until she's satisfied. "Good," she says. "Remember to keep those faces blank. The story must be with your eyes, which you must always keep connected to your partner. Begin to dance in a clockwise _circular_ motion startin' from the left because the musicians will be placed to the left." She moves back to the sidelines and claps her hands (twice).

Classical music begins to play.

Jim holds Bones gaze and they start to dance. She winces when she steps on his foot. "Sorry," she says with a light blush. It happens again. And again. And two more times. "Sorry!" she mutters. "I'm awful at this."

"No," Bones corrects as they stop for a moment. "You gotta lead me."

Jim frowns. "But I—shouldn't you be the one to do that?"

Bones shakes his head. "Hudson Hill Waltz is different. The women lead. Not the men."

Jim chews on her bottom lip and she nods. "Okay. Let's try again," she decides.

Bones quiets down and his face goes blank but his eyes are—well she doesn't know what they are but she can't look away.

Jim holds his gaze as she moves in triple time and Bones follows her movements easily. She's not sure what she's supposed to be thinking while she looks at him or what kind of story her eyes are supposed to tell but she figures the best thing to do is to wing it. So she concentrates on the warm feeling she gets when he smiles at her or when he kisses her or when he says something that takes her completely by surprise.

"My Lord!" Gloria says, suddenly appearing from nowhere.

Jim jumps, startled, and she breaks eye contact with Bones to look at her. "Is something wrong?" she asks.

"Oh no, not at all. In fact…" Gloria trails off as she fans herself with a slight blush. "You go on and do just like how you were. That was unsettlingly perfect." She waddles away to scold Allison and Rocky, who are giggling away at each other like school children.

"She's so…" Jim tries to find the right words.

"Yeah," Bones says. He must know what she's trying to say. "Though it makes me wonder what we must've looked like." He studies her face considerably.

Jim blushes suddenly and she has to shift away from Bones for a moment to collect herself. She coughs awkwardly. "I, uh—I have to use the bathroom," and she flees because this conversation is so far out of her depth. She tucks away in a restroom and shoves through a stall, slamming the door shut and locking it as she breathes shakily. "What the fuck?" she whispers to herself as she fans away at her burning skin.

She does actually pee but not without muttering curse words under her breath out of frustration and confusion. She moves to the sink and watches her reflection as she washes her hands. She shakes her hands off and chews on her bottom look as she looks at herself. It takes a minute but she finally musters up the courage to try and see the face she made when she danced with Bones.

So she stares into her own eyes and concentrates on that warm feeling again.

What she notices upsets her even more.

She looks like a woman in love.

Jim's mouth wiggles unhappily and she turns away from her reflection. She can't stand what she sees. She pulls free the box of sour gummy worms from her back pocket in an attempt to distract herself and calm down. She presses a hand to her lower stomach when she finishes and exhales.

_It's hormones, _Jim silently decides. _I just—it's all hormones and it'll be fine once I have this baby. I just need to make sure I don't do anything stupid. I wouldn't want to give Bones false hope for something that's never going to happen._

Jim nods sharply once she finishes her mental pep talk and she throws back her shoulders with a wavering certainty. She exits the restrooms and makes her way back to the gymnasium.

Gloria is working with the others on their stances and their movement.

Bones is standing on the sidelines with his hands in his pocket and a thoughtful expression.

Jim smiles but thinks better of it because she knows that's one of her tells. So she just wiggles her mouth as she approaches Bones.

"You alright?" Bones asks quietly and takes a moment to study her before he meets her eyes.

"Yeah. I just had to pee," Jim says, lying partially.

Bones frowns but he doesn't say anything.

"You ready to get back out there? I think I can do it without breaking your feet," Jim jokes and hopes desperately he takes the bait.

Bones snorts and shakes his head. "Just lead. I'll follow," he suggests and presses a large hand to the small of her back, guiding her out onto the floor.

Jim takes a moment to put herself in the right stance and she gets an airtight hold on her emotions before she lifts her blue eyes and meets his gaze. She swallows, begins to dance, and hopes she doesn't look as vulnerable as she feels.

It's the longest two hours she's ever experienced.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>_Happy New Year. :)_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**STARFLEET CORRESPONDENCE  
>STARDATE 225007.26<br>JAMES T KIRK VIA SAVANNAH, GEORGIA  
>CAPTAIN CHRISTOPHER PIKE OF SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA<strong>

_Captain Pike,_

_Is that recruitment still open for negotiation?_

_JTK_

888

**Monday – July 27th – Noon**

**Richmond Hill – _Gad-wak Ogsu Mahr-kel_ (Sunrise Tailor Shop)**

They left early, around ten or so, to make the hour and a half drive out to Richmond Hill to this dress boutique that Pauline swears by. Bones drove, and Jim sat in the passenger seat with her face pressed into the cool glass of the window and her PADD in her lap, which was no use to her because all she did was fall asleep again.

Pauline and Eleanora sat in the back, talking about things that older women, widows, mothers, usually liked to talk about while Bones flipped through radio stations and kept an eye on Jim as well as the road.

They arrive around noon and by the time Jim stretches lazily with a content sigh, her stomach is grumbling and she is inexplicably hungry. She rambles off a list of things she has a craving for to Bones (since he's kind enough to fetch her some food) before Eleanora and Pauline herd her into the classy store.

Even when they're inside, Jim doesn't spare a single dress a second glance because she's too busy jotting off to the bathroom to care about anything else. This has become the most annoying development—her frequent need to pee—and she's only eight weeks into this pregnancy. She knows that the bigger she gets, the worse the urge to pee will be. She's so not looking forward to that.

Jim sighs as she tides herself up, washes her hands, and strolls out the bathroom to the front of the store where Eleanora and Pauline are chatting up the owner, which happens to be the same Vulcan female Jim recognizes as T'Para. The same Vulcan female who was making out with Serene that one weekend they spent in Albany County.

By the slight green tinge on T'Para's cheeks, Jim would say that she recognizes her as well. She quickly schools her expression, however, and the flush dies into something a lot more neutral.

"Oh, T'Para," Pauline gushes and T'Para diverts her attention away from Jim. "You've grown since I last was here."

T'Para's mouth gives a slight frown and she blinks only once. She says, "I fail to perceive what you mean by that comment. Surely, you did not believe I would remain as I was when we last met. Does not everything age?"

Pauline chuckles fondly. "Yes, but, well, it's just a thing we humans say when we take note of things."

T'Para says nothing.

"In any case, I'm curious. Where's your mother?" Pauline questions.

"She has gone to our ancestral planet to convene with our kin. As such, the shop is now within my care until her return," T'Para explains, quite frankly. "I am familiar with her methods, if this concerns you."

"Oh, I've no doubt about your skills," Pauline promises before she gestures beside her. "This is a longtime friend of mine, Eleanora McCoy. And this is her surrogate daughter, Jim Kirk. Jim's the one who'll need the measurin' and the fittin'."

"Very well," T'Para says simply. "I will detain the tools I require. In the meantime, Ms. Kirk, if you will please stand here." She indicates to the small, three-inch stage beside the three body mirrors.

Jim kicks off her boots and steps on it.

Bones enters the shop with his arms full of food.

Jim can smell it from here and it makes her stomach growl. "Oh God, I'm so hungry. Gimme, gimme," she whines and makes grabby motions with her hands.

Bones huffs and says, "Hold on a minute." He lets Eleanora and Pauline grab their food first before he treks over to Jim.

Jim makes an impatient sound as she digs through the bags and pulls free a warm six-inch sub wrapped in tin-foil. "You told them extra onions and extra olives right?" She tears off the foil and takes a huge bite before he can answer, moaning in utter elation as the sharp flavors of mustard, salami, turkey, pickles, onions, olives, and oregano explodes over her tongue.

Bones's lips curl while he watches her in amusement and hands her some napkins when she drips mustard on her shirt with a muttered swear. He hands over a bag of pretzels after he opens it for her before he moves off to the side to join Eleanora and Pauline where they are sitting on a couch to eat his own food.

Jim takes three more bites of her sandwich before jamming a few pretzels in her mouth and chews furiously because she's so goddamn hungry. She makes a face at Bones, who's still watching her with that amused smirk of his, before she rolls her eyes and pretends to be annoyed with being the center of his focused attention (she's really not though, she loves it, but she'll be damned if she ever says).

T'Para returns with all her gear by the time Jim is well on her way to being done with her sub and asking for another (which Bones thankfully prepared for). She moves silently around Jim as she takes her measurements with a thoughtful (yet concentrated) frown.

Jim wipes her mouth clean before she finishes the rest of her pretzels.

T'Para asks, "Are there any specific modifications or stylistic choices you prefer?"

"Black," Jim says before Eleanora and Pauline can make their demands. "All black. I want to look like I'm going to a funeral. Or like a zombie wedding."

Bones snorts but Eleanora doesn't find it so amusing. She says, "Lively colors, if you please, Ms. T'Para. Nothin' that makes her look too pale."

"And loose," Pauline adds. "I suspect she'll gain a little weight during the next four days, as one would while they are expectin'."

Jim frowns petulantly but she says nothing while T'Para studies her with slight interest before she takes the measurement of Jim's waist once again. When she wanders off with Eleanora and Pauline to collect different types of ball gowns, Jim says, "I'm still hungry."

Bones grabs the extra sub in the bag and brings it over to her with more napkins. "We should start outlinin' the move. I've been doin' research," he says as he watches her eat.

"So have I," Jim mumbles back, around two bites of her sub. "Pike still hasn't gotten back to me, but I think he will. He's probably busy with something." She shrugs and swallows. "I still got the map of San Francisco on my PADD and I like tacked off the important places."

Bones nods before he wanders back to the couch and grabs Jim's PADD out of her handbag. When he has the map pulled up, he says, "You marked six daycares? Starfleet has a daycare center."

Jim chews and puts her hand in front of her mouth as she says, "Yeah, but those are just the backups. You don't really know how the instructors are, or if they're too full, or if there's certain things they don't cater too. Maybe you might even disagree with the curriculum. I just wanted to be sure you had some good options for Joanna."

Bones smiles a little but he keeps his amusement contained. She can tell he's amused and that annoys her slightly. He says, "No, you're right. I suppose we can call at least four of these places before we decide anythin'."

"Well, _you'll_ decide. I don't really—I mean it's not much of my—Jocelyn will probably have more of a weight on the decision than I do since…" Jim trails off with an embarrassed flush as Bones waits patiently for her to finish. "I just _mean _that what I—_how _I feel doesn't really matter."

"Don't be an idiot," Bones says, not unkindly. "Of course it does. Joanna's gonna be just as much under your care as mine. We're all gonna be livin' together. And I'm sure there'll be days when I get so wrapped up in somethin' and you'll have to pick her up or drop her off. So the choice has to be viable for _both _of us. We're gonna be dealin' with the same thing when our daughter comes along."

Jim forgot about that. To be honest, she's been fretting over the living arrangement for a little while now. She just wants Joanna to be comfortable but she isn't sure how to go about making that happen other than suggesting things to Bones so that he can carry things out. They aren't even married or dating or _anything _besides close friends. It's been hard to say what role Jim would play in the grand scope of things when it came to Joanna.

"Quit worryin' over it," Bones drawls and grins fondly at her. "It'll be fine. Joanna already likes you. It'll be fine and we can decide _together _what's best for her as long as she's living under the same roof as us."

Jim shoves more of her sandwich in her mouth before she nods. She chews for a bit and swallows. "Okay, so, I also marked like local playgrounds and extracurricular programs. There's a studio within a quarter mile of Starfleet, and they offer clubs for toddlers. You know, things like karate, Girls' Scouts, cheerleading, gymnastics, music and art, um, I think they also host a space program with focuses in xenolinguistics and exobiology. Most of them sound really cool. I'd even join them."

"It'll be a treat for Jo," Bones supposes as with a slight grin. "She's got enough energy to run through six of them. This'll be good to tire her out. We can bring her home, feed her up and usher her right to bed."

Jim laughs and shakes her head. "Let's make three the limit because we don't know if it'll interfere with our academic schedule. I don't want her to be stranded if neither of us can get around to picking her up or anything."

Bones nods agreeably. "You didn't mark any of the hospitals in the area," he notes.

"Figured you'd have that all covered. You're the expert between us right?" Jim counters with a coy smile as she finishes the last bite of sandwich.

Bones just huffs and gets to work with marking them all. "I already spoke to an obstetrician. Her name is Dr. Kahlima Gupta. She works in the hospital that's a quarter mile from Starfleet. She's expectin' us on the 10th."

"Kay," Jim says just as T'Para, Eleanora, and Pauline return with arms full of ball gowns. "Do I have to try on _all _of those?" she asks.

"Yes, ma'am. And you can start with my pile while you're at it," Eleanora says and dumps the gowns in Jim's arms.

"Or, _or—_I could do the whole 'close my eyes and pick at random' thing and maybe even spare us hours upon hours of choosing when we could just be on the inside of a buffet—"

"No," Eleanora interrupts and pins Jim with a serious look. "I seldom get a chance to share in this stylistic privilege and you will not rob me of the opportunity. Now, you either get in there and try these on or I will knock you unconscious and dress you myself."

Jim blinks but then makes a thoughtful face. "Well, I mean, if it would make things easier to—"

"Oh for heaven's sake! That was a threat, not an idea for you to consider, you absolute lazy sloth," Eleanora fusses but the fondness is still in her exasperated tone.

Jim sighs. Then sighs again. Then sighs one more time, but even louder than the first two times, adding a dramatically hesitant walk towards the dressing room. The first gown is bright pink and ridiculous with ruffles. When she returns, she makes sure that her dislike of the dress is painted plainly on her face.

Eleanora and Pauline laugh.

Bones takes a picture of her using her own PADD.

Jim glares at him. "Don't take pictures!" she protests.

"Too late," Bones merely says with a dark chuckle and snaps another one, just to be an asshole.

Jim rolls her eyes at him and stands with her hands on her hips. "I hate it," she says.

Eleanora ignores her and makes a gesture for Jim to turn.

Jim does.

"Yeah, I don't know about this one," Pauline remarks.

"It is unflattering," T'Para adds, quite candidly.

Jim looks at Eleanora desperately and she sighs. "Alright," she concedes. "Put on the next one."

"_Thank you_," Jim mutters as she returns to the dressing room. She puts on the next gown, which is an aqua green, one-shouldered gown. She hates it just as much as the first. She stomps out of the room and back to the small stage in front of the mirrors. "I don't like this one either."

Eleanora sighs.

Pauline grins fondly.

T'Para remains stoical.

Bones take another picture.

Jim glares at them all before she returns to the dressing room.

It takes approximately _six hours _(and several dozen bathroom breaks in between)before Jim comes to a consensus over three ball gowns that Eleanora, Pauline, and even T'Para likes. She tries on the first two again before she changes into the third (which is her favorite). It's a silk, strapless, dark navy blue, mermaid fit with a flowing hem. She looks fucking killer in it and when she returns to the small stage, she knows it because those mirrors don't lie.

"I want it," Jim begs as she twists from side to side.

"It's a little tight," Eleanora protests weakly. "Are you even comfortable?"

"Yes, I am, I promise. It's just for a night anyway. Not even a night. For like an hour," Jim swears as she slides her hands along her hips. "Please?"

Eleanora seems unsure.

"It is _very _flattering to her physical features," Pauline supposes. She whistles and snaps her fingers. "Honey, if I had a body like that still. Lord, the world wouldn't be safe."

Jim smiles widely.

"It is suitable for her skin tone, and relatively draws the gaze, not specifically to one area, but to her entire form. From shoulder to foot, she appears to be aesthetically pleasing. If it is your intention to 'stand out' amongst your peers, this gown is acceptable," T'Para arthritically comments.

Jim gives her two thumbs-up and a grin.

T'Para merely lifts an eyebrow.

Jim turns to Bones, who has been staring for quite a while, not that she's noticed or anything (maybe). "What's the verdict, boring man? Stash or trash?" she asks before turning her back to him and looking at him from over her shoulders and underneath her thick lashes.

Bones's lips part but he seems stuck. Like he's rebooting or something.

Jim grins coyly at him and winks.

Bones flushes.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Eleanora snaps and smacks Bones on the back of his head. "If you can't even formulate a reply then we're gonna disregard your opinion altogether."

Jim smirks smugly. "But he _likes _it," she says lowly and turns with her hands on her accentuated hips. "Don't you?"

"We should get the dress," Bones says in a strangled tone before he quickly clears his throat. "It's—fine. We all agree that it's—good."

Eleanora rolls her eyes and nods to Pauline as they both stand. She says, "Alright, Jamie, go change and bring it back out before my son makes an ever bigger fool of himself over you. Since he _likes _it so much, he can pay for it. We'll be waiting in the car."

Jim claps her hands excitedly and swaggers back to the dressing room to change back into her regular clothes. She carries out the dress and puts it on the checkout counter as she stands by Bones, who's fishing his wallet from his back pocket.

T'Para rings the gown up before carefully tucking it inside a zip-lock gown bag.

Jim hugs Bones's arm as she watches him buy the dress. She smiles and bounces excitedly. "Thank you," she says as she receives the gown from T'Para and kisses his cheek.

Bones huffs before he tucks his wallet away and puts his arm over her shoulders as he presses her into side. "You ain't gotta thank me, Jim. I'm the one that gets to twirl you around in it, come the Debutante Ball."

"Yeah, and maybe you get to take it off me too," Jim murmurs with a slight smirk as her eyebrows jump suggestively.

"Well, there's that too," Bones casually supposes. "C'mon, let's get you home."

"I'm hungry."

"We'll stop somewhere on the way back."

"Damn right we will. But take this to the car cause I have to fucking pee. _Again_." Jim shoves the gown into his chest before speed walking to the bathroom.

888

**STARFLEET CORRESPONDENCE  
>STARDATE 225007.28<br>CAPTAIN CHRISTOPHER PIKE VIA SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA  
>JAMES T KIRK OF SAVANNAH, GEORGIA<strong>

_Ms. Kirk,_

_You can enlist still. Only if you think you can manage it for the next four years._

_Pike_

**STARFLEET CORRESPONDENCE  
>STARDATE 225007.28<br>JAMES T KIRK VIA SAVANNAH, GEORGIA  
>CAPTAIN CHRISTOPHER PIKE OF SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA<strong>

_Pike,_

_Four years? _

_No, no. _

_I'll do it in three and a half._

_Jim_

**STARFLEET CORRESPONDENCE  
>STARDATE 225007.28<br>CAPTAIN CHRISTOPHER PIKE VIA SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA  
>JAMES T KIRK OF SAVANNAH, GEORGIA<strong>

_Jim,_

_Now, that I'd like to see. When should I expect you?_

_Pike_

**STARFLEET CORRESPONDENCE  
>STARDATE 225007.28<br>JAMES T KIRK VIA SAVANNAH, GEORGIA  
>CAPTAIN CHRISTOPHER PIKE OF SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA<strong>

_Pike,_

_Very early august. _

_And I'll be bringing some companions. _

_I've got a friend that's interested in enlisting too. You may remember him—Dr. Leonard McCoy. He's coming down with me with his daughter (she's three by the way). _

_Problem?_

_Jim_

**STARFLEET CORRESPONDENCE  
>STARDATE 225007.28<br>CAPTAIN CHRISTOPHER PIKE VIA SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA  
>JAMES T KIRK OF SAVANNAH, GEORGIA<strong>

_Jim,_

_Not at all. I still believe he has a lot to offer. His potential is up to par with your own. I'm curious though. How did you talk him into enlisting with you? I recall him being, to put it bluntly, 'prickly' when I attempted to recruit him._

_Pike_

**STARFLEET CORRESPONDENCE  
>STARDATE 225007.28<br>JAMES T KIRK VIA SAVANNAH, GEORGIA  
>CAPTAIN CHRISTOPHER PIKE OF SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA<strong>

_Pike,_

_I have stunning powers of persuasion that, unfortunately, even supersede your own, Captain._

_Plus we're kinda having a baby together. _

_Problem?_

_Jim_

**STARFLEET CORRESPONDENCE  
>STARDATE 225007.28<br>CAPTAIN CHRISTOPHER PIKE VIA SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA  
>JAMES T KIRK OF SAVANNAH, GEORGIA<strong>

_Jim,_

_Not at all. And congratulations. I'm actually glad you told me. This way I can make certain preparations on my end. How do you feel about living on campus grounds? We could house you in one of the buildings we place a fraction of our instructors. I'm sure I can petition a waiver for the rent, but you and Dr. McCoy would still have to pay utilities. If that's agreeable to you, I'll send you the paperwork via attachment. If the two of you can get that filled out and sent back to me, I can get started on processing your housing applications as soon as possible._

_Pike_

**STARFLEET CORRESPONDENCE  
>STARDATE 225007.28<br>JAMES T KIRK VIA SAVANNAH, GEORGIA  
>CAPTAIN CHRISTOPHER PIKE OF SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA<strong>

_Pike,_

_That's perfect. Thank you. We'll see you soon._

_Jim_

888

**Friday – July 31st – 5 p.m.**

"The day of reckoning has come," Pauline chirps pleasantly as she messes in Jim's hair. They're in the kitchen at the table. Pauline's makeup kits and hair bags are spread across the surface of the table.

Eleanora has left to purchase some heels for Jim, because apparently that's the one thing that's slipped their mind.

Bones is sitting across the table in a tailor-made navy-blue suit with Jim's PADD in his hand. His face is cleanly shaved, and his hair is neatly combed and parted. He looks so crisp and immaculate in his suit that Jim is having a hard time not staring.

Bones is fucking hot.

Jim crams a handful of popcorn in her mouth as she sits quietly and stares.

"Are you nervous?" Pauline asks as she begins to add short extensions to Jim's hair.

"Not really," Jim says after a swallow, and she means that. She actually can't wait to get this ordeal over with so she can put it behind her and focus on the future.

Bones aims her PADD at her and says, "Smile."

"Why? I'm not even fully dressed yet." Jim frowns heavily, just to be difficult.

Bones snorts as he watches her facial expression from off the screen of the device. "Just smile."

"No. Why do you keep taking pictures of me?"

"Because," Bones simply says and that's not even an answer. "Now smile like you just won a lifetime supply of chocolate."

Jim snickers but she can't help but to smile at his ridiculousness.

Bones snaps the picture and nods.

"Let me see," Jim demands and eyes the photo when Bones turns her PADD towards her.

**_(picture can be seen in LiveJournal account)_**

"You got so close. The shot is like, all up in my face." Jim gestures in a circular motion around her face. "Erase it."

"No. Give it time and you'll be fond of it too," Bones says as he pulls the PADD out of her reach.

"I can always go on later and erase it."

"Sure, but I've already forwarded it to myself so it wouldn't do much good."

"You're annoying," Jim mutters and shoves more popcorn in her mouth. "Pauline, tell him how annoying he is."

Pauline just chuckles as she begins to straighten Jim's hair. "You two are so adorable, it's unreal."

"I'm the adorable one," Bones says seriously. "She gets to be adorable by association."

"Oh, shut up," Jim laughs and throws a handful of popcorn at him. "Cause if you're the adorable one, that means I get to be the sexy one."

"No, no," Pauline interrupts. "You two are adorable. _I'm _the sexy one."

Jim laughs so hard she almost falls out of the chair and burns her ear against the flatiron.

Eleanora chooses this moment to stroll in with a crème-colored shoebox. She sets the box in Bones's laps as she approaches Jim to eye her makeup. "That's lovely, Pauline. Thank you," she praises.

Pauline grins with a wink and finishes up the last of Jim's hair before patting her on the shoulder. "Alright, you're all set. Go get dressed and we can get out of here."

Jim nods and motions for Bones to follow. Which he does. Once they're in the privacy of her room, she starts stripping down to her underwear. She takes a moment to look down and consider her thickening waistline. It's not overtly obvious if you don't know what your looking for or if Jim isn't standing at the right angle, but it's there all the same.

If Jim were being openly honest, she'd say she's a bit eager to see how she'll look with her belly firm and rounded with the baby.

_Their _baby.

Their _daughter_.

Bones is watching her from where he's sitting on the edge of the bed. His expression is almost soft and sentimental.

"What?" Jim says as she unhooks her uncomfortable bra and trades it for a strapless one which also so happens to be a bigger cup size. "What?"

"Nothin'. I just think we're thinkin' the same thing," Bones supposes quietly and he glances down at her stomach.

Jim smiles slightly and says, "Hand me my dress."

Bones sets her shoes off to the side as he stands and wanders into her closet to retrieve her gown.

Jim grazes the manicured nails of her right hand against her lower stomach as Bones reappears with her gown. She takes it from him and steps into it. She presses the front of it to her chest and says, "Can you zip me up?"

Bones nods and makes his way behind her.

Jim bites her bottom lip as she waits. Her eyebrows furrow curiously as they stand in silence. She can feel the warmth of his body as he presses closer and brushes her hair gently off to the side and over her left shoulder. Her eyes fall close as he presses his nose into the crook of her neck, and she shivers quietly when his fingers slowly slide down the bare skin of her back, between her shoulder blades, all the way down to the base of her spine to the cold metal of her zipper.

Bones brushes his bottom lip against the flushed curve of her ear as her pulls the zipper up.

Jim's breath hitches and she shudders as heat blossoms against her cheeks and unfolds between her thighs. Her hands twitch against her hips as he tangles his fingers with hers and pulls her back until there's no space left between them. She lets him grip her jaw and turn her head so that he can sweep her into a biting kiss that speaks volumes to his desire and his possessiveness.

Bones slips his tongue between her lips and rumbles appreciatively at the slight whimper she gives in response as she sucks on his tongue while reaching up to cup the back of his head to deepen the kiss.

Jim feels her blood sing as her heart thuds at a jackrabbiting pace. Something pleasant and sweet, like warm honey, coils around her bones when he kisses her like he doesn't plan on stopping anytime soon, like he knows in the very depths of himself that she's meant for him, like everything else can wait. Her knees shake and he keeps her steady by pressing his large hand against her lower stomach to where he must know the baby is.

Bones kisses the corner of her mouth and begins to stamp a wet trail down to the curve of her shoulder where he stays.

Jim opens her eyes and breathes shakily as her body spasms with aching arousal. She presses her thighs together and tries not to think about how perfect Bones would feel if her were inside of her. She swallows dryly and exhales as Bones continues to graze his lips back and forth against her shoulder. She says, "What are you thinking about?"

"Takin' you to bed and messin' up your makeup," Bones rumbles huskily as he rubs his fingers against her lower stomach.

Jim smiles and shakes her head. "Eleanora and Pauline would kill you," she warns weakly because the idea is getting more and more appealing with each passing second.

Bones just huffs and lifts his head to kiss her temple before he pulls away completely.

Jim feels almost robbed at the loss but she doesn't stop him. She walks to the bed and sits on the edge so she can put on her silver pumps. She tucks her hair behind her hair when it falls into her eyes.

Bones is watching her as he leans against her dresser with his arms crossed. He says, "You ready?"

Jim looks up at him before she straightens. "You mean Florence's plan?" she asks because she knows. "Yeah. I'm ready."

"You don't have to do it if—" Bones struggles to find the right words. "Just, we can figure somethin' else out."

Jim shakes her head as she stands. "No, it has to be like this. It'll work," she promises as she cups her hands over his shoulders. "Besides, I'm ready to put it all behind me and have one less thing to worry about."

Bones has an indecipherable look in his eyes. She can't really tell what he's thinking and that bothers her at times because she can usually read it off of him. He says, "I hope one day you can tell me what he had over you, Jim. What made him force your hand. I'd like to know, if you give me a chance to."

Jim sighs roughly and squeezes his shoulders. "Maybe," she says quietly. "Maybe one day but not today."

"Not today," Bones agrees.

_Knock, knock_.

"You decent, Jamie? I need to talk to you, if you can spare a moment," Eleanora says from the other side of the door.

Jim drops her hands and says, "Yeah. Yeah, come in. It's fine."

Eleanora enters with a small black suede box in her hand and she sweeps her eyes between them before she gives Bones a look. "Len, if you don't mind," she murmurs with good humor.

Bones frowns but he doesn't protest. "I'll get the car started so we can leave," he says and exits the room.

Jim gives Eleanora her full attention. "So what did you want to talk to me about?"

Eleanora just smiles and reaches forward to place the small black suede box in her hand.

Jim frowns curiously and opens it, stilling in surprise by the gorgeous ring inside. "Eleanora," she breathes in amazement. "Are you proposing to me?"

Eleanora laughs shortly before she says, "It's a family heirloom. Passed down from mother to daughter for generations. I thought it was rightly so for such an occasion."

Jim stares at her speechless for a few moments before she chokes out, "But why are you giving it to me?"

Eleanora doesn't look confused or angry—just patiently happy and humorously fond of Jim. "Oh, James," she says sweetly and its enough to make Jim blush. "You daft girl. I'm givin' it to you because you're like a daughter to me. I'm tryin' to tell you I love you. And that no matter what, I will always love you and be here for you for whatever you need."

Jim eyes begin to warm before she can even help it and she can't say a thing.

"Now don't start cryin' on me. You'll ruin that lovely makeup Pauline has worked so hard on," Eleanora lightly scolds, even though her own eyes are a little misty. She reaches forward and pulls the ring free, sliding it onto Jim's left hand onto the finger between her pointer finger and her ring finger. "You take good care of it now. And you give it to the little angel you're about to have when she's old enough so she can do the same. So the tradition can continue."

Jim nods and tries to desperately to blink away her tears. When the ring is set right, she throws her arms around Eleanora and hugs her so tightly as if in fear she'll disappear forever. "Thank you. I never had—" She chokes on her words and tries to gather herself. "Just thank you."

"You are welcome, Jamie. You're family," Eleanora promises and hugs her back just as tightly. "No matter if your with my son or not. You're family."

Jim shudders and nods before she pulls away. "Oh, but, what about Joanna?" she says as she remembers. "Shouldn't she have it? I mean—"

"Don't you worry about that," Eleanora says. "Joanna's got plenty comin' to her. She's not gonna be shorted over one old ring." She adds a wink here.

Jim smiles and nods.

"Let's get goin'," Eleanora says and steers Jim out the room, down the steps and out of the house to Bones's car.

Jim climbs into the passenger seat and makes sure she gathers the hem of her ball gown so it wont be caught when she closes the door.

Pauline is the last to arrive and after she's buckled in, Bones drives towards town.

They arrive at Town Square Park around six o'clock and it looks to be quite a turnout. There's a red carpet rolled out and everything, and it leads up to the massive canvas stretched above a temporary dance floor. It reminds Jim of some kind of celebrity wedding reception.

"They make a big deal of it," Eleanora explains. "It is sort of a grand affair and the tickets are costly, which is why they have so much media coverage. This is all for the folks at home who couldn't make it out."

Bones pulls up to the valet post and hands over his keys to one of them before he makes his way to Jim's side and steers her to the starting point of the red carpet.

"More pictures. Yay," Jim mutters and grins when Bones chuckles.

A female coordinator approaches them with a clipboard and a headset. "Okay, you must be James Kirk. And you're her escort," she says before making a note of it. "Alright, you're going to walk through, but stop exactly four times so they can get some good pictures of you. The last picture is one you'll take by yourself. Okay? Good. Go."

Jim puts on her best winning smile as she takes Bones's arm in hand and they start a moderate stroll down the red carpet. The flashing camera lights are a bite blinding and disorientating. When they make it to the end, Bones steps off the carpet so that Jim can take the last picture by herself.

**_(picture can be seen in LiveJournal account)_**

Jim slides off to the side and joins Bones just as Zonta arrives with Chadwick. She and Bones walk to the backstage area where Pauline and Eleanora are and wait until they're called for the dance. In the meantime, Jim sends Bones on quick food runs to the concession table located on the other side of the stage. She's still stuffing her face when it's time to gather on the dance floor for the Hudson Hill Waltz.

Pauline puts some red lipstick on Jim before Bones spirits her away to the dance floor.

Jocelyn stands on the small stage with a growing stomach and a mic in hand, "Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to this year's Ms. Hudson Hill Debutant Ball. These three ladies have shown and proved many capabilities and we are happy to welcome them warmly as they perform one of Hudson Hill's proudest standing traditions. The Hudson Hill Waltz."

Everyone begins to clap as the three couples take their positions.

Jim stands across from Bones with a slight smile as he returns it with a small grin.

Jocelyn gestures to the band and they begin to play.

Jim dips gracefully as she locks eyes with Bones.

Bones returns it with a slight bow.

Jim moves in and Bones keeps his gaze focused on her as he settles one hand on the small of her back while she cups her hand over his shoulder. She clasps their right hands together and takes a deep breath, waiting for the musical cue that would signal the start of the waltz.

When it comes Jim leads Bones rhythmically around and around in triple time as they progress around the dance floor. It's almost unfair how easy it is to forget there are dozens of eyes watching them. In fact, she could really care less because the way Bones is looking at her is making her heart lurch pleasantly like a cricket in a cage.

It's like floating almost—she feels so light on her feet.

But that's just it, isn't it? Because with Bones she always feels so thoughtlessly comfortable in her own skin.

_I wish you were mine, _Jim thinks and grows a little sad. _I wish I was right for you but I'm not and you deserve better._

Bones frowns slightly because he must read it on her face and she tries to hide it before he can ask questions.

The waltz ends and the band plays the last chord just as the crowd applauds.

Jim feels flustered as she startled into awareness and she smiles shakily at their audience. She exits the floor and moves to the backstage area while the judges showcase a virtual slideshow of the competition from the beginning to end.

Bones grabs her elbow gently and he looks like he wants to say something but Jim shakes her head firmly. He clamps his mouth shut with a slight scowl but he nods.

"Good looking out there!" a voice says from the immediate left and when they turn to see who it is they discover it's Florence.

Jim blinks rapidly because she barely recognizes her with her normally red hair dyed to a white-blonde and cut into an almost pixie style. She's got all of her piercings out and she barely looks like the same person. "Florence, what's all this?" she says making a sweeping gesture to her face.

"Just thought it was time for a change. And besides, you're leaving soon, and so I thought maybe it was time for me to move on too. Start fresh and new somewhere," Florence says with a strange twinkle in her grey eyes. "But I thought I'd watch you take down Mayor Treadway before I fly the coop."

"You're not leaving tonight," Jim denies.

Florence grins a little sadly and gives a weak shrug.

"Florence," Jim says and feels a bubble of anger growing in her belly. "You're not leaving tonight are you?"

"Not without saying goodbye, Blue, you know that," Florence says gently.

Jim becomes rightly livid and the silence that blankets them is a tense one.

Bones clears his throat and tucks his hands away in the pockets of his pants. "I'm gonna go find Pauline and my mom in the crowd," he says and retreats.

"Where are you going?" Jim asks as she puts her hands on her hips and flexes her fingers.

"Gotta tie up some loose ends, you know. Completely," Florence supposes. "Don't you worry about it, Blue. I'll find you when I can."

Jim wants to be mad, she wants to protest, but she can't because she understands. She understands more than she can say. "Please try and at least let me know you're alive once in a while so I don't worry."

"You got it, sunshine," Florence promises with a genuine grin.

The female coordinator appears in a flurry, attaching a small mic to the dip of Jim's cleavage on her gown, saying, "Five minutes to stage time. You'll be last," and she's off in a rush again.

Florence walks up to Jim and grabs her hands. "Hey, remember what we talked about. Mayor Treadway's out in that crowd and you gotta get him so steaming mad that he'll want to confront you as you step foot off that stage. I'll do the rest, yeah?"

Jim nods and accepts the hug Florence gives her.

Florence pulls back and kisses her on the cheek. "Work your magic," she says quietly, squeezing her hands one final time before she disappears from sight.

Jim sighs and wrings her hands as she walks over to the stage steps where Zonta and Allison are lined up.

Zonta ignores her completely (no surprise there) but Allison greets her warmly. Zonta goes onto the stage first and the audience welcomes her warmly. She gives a little speech and exits.

Allison goes next and does as Zonta did. The end of her speech is met with applause and she exits the stage.

It's Jim's turn and she carefully glides across the stage where Reverend Nolan is waiting. He smiles and waits for the audience to cease their applause so that he can say, "Ms. Kirk, as this is the final portion of the competition, we like to give the young ladies an opportunity to state their case about why they think they deserve to win. We do this by asking one very simple question—what is your greatest aspiration in life?"

Jim smiles pristinely and says, "My greatest aspiration in life? Well, I suppose, would be—to be happy."

The audience coos and applauds agreeably.

Reverend Nolan chuckles and nods, "Maybe you should elaborate on that."

"Of course," Jim says easily. "You see I've always had trouble finding a place to call home where I can be comfortable and feel safe. A place where the people are warm and welcoming and greet you as if you were an old friend. A place where I can build a life for myself. Unfortunately, that's not Hudson Hill."

There are whispers and murmurs of confusion that ring clear throughout the audience.

"I'm sorry, let me clarify. Hudson Hill is a wonderful place full of wonderful people. It's just a shame it's being ran by a shameless tyrant. Now, I'm sure you all adore Mayor Treadway but the fact of the matter is that ever since I came here, I've been hounded endlessly with unwanted advances from both him and his son. I don't feel safe and I certainly don't feel comfortable. I am glad, however, to have met Eleanora McCoy. She's one of the greatest things to have ever happened to me. She's fully restored my faith in mothers everywhere. She's wonderful. Just like Zonta. Just like Allison. They're the ones that deserve to win. Zonta is innovative and she's creative and she's such a hardworker. I've no doubt that given a decade she'll have her own name brand and a firm empire in the fashion world. I'll pray that even happens because she deserves so much to have it and then some. And Allison, who people like to taunt and tease, is a musical genius. She has the rare ability of perfect pitch. She could play any instrument and teach at any school in the world. All she needs is the chance to go to the college of her choice and pursue this career. I only joined this competition because I wanted to open up my own bar in Miami and live off those earnings.

"I wanted that because people like Mayor Treadway were just dragging me down by throwing my less than squeaky clean past in my face. And I'm sorry I don't want to marry your son or that you urged him to blackmail me into doing it but I don't plan on marrying some spoiled brat for your political gain." Jim doesn't even flinch when the audience gasps in surprise. "So when I said that I wanted to be happy, I meant that I plan on doing something more useful with my life besides handing out booze to flashy clientele. I plan on enlisting in Starfleet, like my dad did. I want to make a difference universally. I want everyone to feel as safe as I want to feel. I want to pave the way for my own children, including the one I'm currently carrying now."

The audience gasps again and there is a chaos of voices and exclamations.

Jim just smiles and says, "Thank you." She glides off the stage with a little smirk and makes her way to the back area. She's not even surprised when Mayor Treadway storms up to her.

"You meddlesome whore," Mayor Treadway hisses. "What gives you the right to make such claims in front of all those people who are partially my family and colleagues?"

"I'm sorry," Jim says sweetly. "Did you not like my little speech? It was from the heart."

"You ain't got no heart," Mayor Treadway snaps. "And you're gonna wish you hadn't done that by the time I'm through with you. You're gonna wish you had acted like a good little bitch and married my son."

"What else can you do to me besides blackmail?" Jim says and laughs coldly.

"I've far worse things I could do than blackmail," Mayor Treadway claims. "You think that little miscarriage my daughter had was an accident? Ha. I spared her a lifetime of disappointment. Nothin' ever good comes from that backwater family of her no good husband. Don't think I won't do the same to you and that bastard child you're carryin' now."

The female coordinator rushes over to them in a flurry with wide eyes and a horrified face. "Mayor Treadway—"

"Now you listen to me you worthless orphaned piece of shit," Mayor Treadway snaps, ignoring the woman. "Whatever game you think you're playin', you're gonna lose. You think I ain't ever went toe to toe with somebody who tried to tarnish my good name? Well let me tell you, it never ended soundly for them and it damn well won't for you. This whole town is full of idiots who do and say what I tell them at the drop of a dime. They ain't gonna believe you because they ain't got the brains for it. Hell, you think I became mayor just out of a whim? Those idiots you tryin' to bad mouth me to are the very ones that put me in office."

"Mayor Treadway!" the female coordinator hisses again, appalled.

"What? Goddamnit!" Mayor Treadway snarls.

The female coordinator glares at him and says, "Her mic is _still_ on. Everything you just said was heard. By _everyone_."

Mayor Treadway pales immensely and he wobbles on his feet, looking ready to faint.

Jim just smirks as she watches Florence give her a thumbs up from where she's standing by the sound system.

Sheriff Kevin McCoy strolls over with two other deputies. He says, "Mayor Treadway, you're under arrest for attempted extortion and unlawful murder." He nods to the deputies and they move forward to cuff a spluttering Mayor Treadway as they read him his rights.

Jim smiles smugly as she crosses her arms and watches them tote him off to a police vehicle. She turns to Sherriff McCoy and says, "Thanks."

"What for? You did most of the work," Sherriff McCoy quips and nods with a wink before he follows after his deputies.

Jim turns in time to see reporters and cameramen flocking up to him and the police car holding Mayor Treadway for what will probably be the juiciest expose that Hudson Hill's ever had. She doesn't flinch when Eleanora and Pauline flock to her with a series of questions. She only deters them by promising that she'll give them the full story once they're home. She moves to find Florence but Zonta and Allison are already there.

"Oh my God," Allison says with wide eyes. "Who knew, right? Who _knew_?"

"Obviously she did. That was the point of this whole thing," Zonta says and she shakes her head with a contrite expression. "And I am _so _sorry. If I'd known, I would never have let Chadwick be my escort." She takes a moment to consider something. "Actually this explains why he paid me thirty grand just to do it."

"Really?" Jim says, surprised. "Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but that's kinda unfair. I mean I was supposed to be his bride. He didn't offer me thirty grand."

"Oh, Jim," Zonta says and shakes her head before encasing her in a hug. "The baby," she whispers. "Is it his?"

"Chadwick? God no," Jim shudders in horror before pulling away. "But I don't think you'll like the answer."

"Doesn't matter. Really. As long as he's happy, I can't be mad. Things happen for a reason. One door opens and another blah, blah, blah," Zonta reasons. "Sorry I was such a dick to you because you were a dick to me."

"Well I'm sorry your sorry and that either one of us have to be sorry," Jim replies and grins.

"Okay, I'm totally lost," Allison says with a genuine frown.

Zonta and Jim just laugh and pull her into a hug.

"You think they'll still announce the winner?" Zonta says.

Jim pulls back and shrugs. "Don't know. I think this whole thing may have outshined it. Sorry. I'll still keep my fingers crossed for the both of you."

"You deserved to win," Allison protests.

Zonta says nothing.

Allison shoves at her. "Zonta!"

"What? I still want to win. Sorry, Jim. You and I are cool and everythin' but I want what I want," Zonta explains.

"It's fine. I understand," Jim assures. She looks around. "Look, I have to look for Florence. I'll see you guys later."

Zonta and Allison wave before they scuttle off to find their families and friends.

Jim tries to track Florence for ten minutes, but to no avail.

Bones finds her by food table. "Hey," he says.

Jim smiles. "Hey."

Bones tucks his hands in pockets and says, "That was quite a show you put on."

"Yeah. But it got the job done, wouldn't you say?" Jim counters and shakes her eyebrows suggestively.

Bones chuckles and shrugs. "Suppose it did. Doesn't make me not want to go and break his goddamn nose for how he was talkin' to you any less, but here's to hopin' he gets put away for a very long time. At least for his safety."

Jim laughs and almost chokes on a piece of broccoli coated in cheese and ranch. "Look at you. All overprotective and chivalrous. Who knew?" she teases.

Bones scowls. "You realize I'm bein' serious," he says.

"Yes, and I appreciate it," Jim promises in a soothing tone. "But try and forget about him. Focus completely on the fact that we get to carry on with our lives. Okay?" She grabs his hand and presses it to her stomach. "Just the four us."

Bones huffs but he calms down enough to kiss her stupid for a solid three minutes.

Jim eventually shoves him away with a playful grin. "Stop giving me your cooties," she fusses as she goes back to ransacking the finger foods on the buffet table.

Bones's hand grazes her lower stomach as he says, "You've got a good deal of my cooties, I think."

"Maybe," Jim says with a little laugh. "But those cooties I don't mind."

Bones hums thoughtfully, but there's no missing the happy glimmer in his hazel eyes. "Before I forget," he says. "Florence wanted me to tell you she said 'good luck'."

Jim stiffens minutely before she forces herself to relax.

Bones notices anyway. "She was saying goodbye, wasn't she?"

Jim doesn't say anything but she shrugs one shoulder before popping another broccoli in her mouth.

"Okay," Bones says. He sighs and rubs her back. "Okay."

Jim allows herself to be sad for that moment—just for him to see. She lets his touch comfort her before she locks it all away and chucks the key in the ever growing pile of emotions she doesn't allow herself to dwell on.

888

**Wednesday – August 5th – Noon**

"You sure about this?" Jim asks for maybe the hundredth time as she watches Bones load the trunk of his black mustang with Jim's bags, as well as Joanna's luggage and his own. "I mean, Joanna and I could just stick around until this whole thing blows over."

Bones closes the trunk and grips her by the shoulders. "Jim, you've got nothin' to worry about it. You and Joanna will be fine to go on ahead without me. I'll trust you'll get there safe and sound. And you can't stay behind with me because we have too many appointments set up. We'd fall behind and neither of us wants that. Besides, it's just for a week. After a week, I'll be right there with you."

"Yeah, but," Jim whines as she squirms. "Couldn't someone else do an autopsy report on Dixie's baby? I—look I know how it sounds—but you gave them your two weeks notice and I don't want to go on without you. And is Jocelyn really okay with me just taking Joanna to—"

"I have full custody of Joanna and I say it's okay. I've talked to Jocelyn already and she ain't tryin' to dispute—not that she could concentrate on anythin' other than the fact that her father is in jail and her brother may very well be too. She actually think it's a good idea that Joanna be taken somewhere the drama can't reach her," Bones supposes and drags Jim close. "It'll be fine and you can't stay."

Jim pouts.

Bones kisses it off her lips before he says, "They don't trust anyone else to do it and I volunteered because I thought it might help the cause. More evidence to keep that damn man to be put away for a long time."

Jim sighs and nods. "Okay. Fine. Even though you're going to miss my prenatal appointment and I'll probably bore Joanna to death and—"

"Stop bein' dramatic. She loves you and there'll be plenty more appointments I'll be there for. You know that," Bones says before he kisses her again and swats her ass playfully. "Now go say goodbye to my momma while I put Joanna's car seat in."

Jim sticks her tongue out at him but she stomps up to the house and inside, where she finds Eleanora and Joanna in the kitchen with Pauline, who's making cinnamon pancakes. "Time to hit the road, Joanna," she announces.

Joanna perks up excitedly and throws her arms around Eleanora's neck, landing a noisy, smacking kiss on her cheek. "Bye, maw-maw. I love you and I promise tah call ya and I promise tah always remember ya and you can come and visit me anytime," she vows seriously as she climbs out of her chair.

Eleanora chuckles fondly as she stands. "Well, as long as you promise, I suppose I can bare to be parted from you," she supposes and watches Joanna run out the door to find her father. She motions Jim to come closer and when she does, she encases her in a hug. "You take care of yourself, you hear? You and that son of mine and my grandbabies. I expect to come down to ya'll when the little angel is ready to come out. March you said?"

"Yes. I'll let you know if that changes for whatever reason," Jim swears and pulls away to give Pauline a hug.

"Well it's a baby," Pauline exclaims. "They tend to do what they please. She'll let you know when she's ready to come out. Some of my own kids came a week early or two weeks late. You oughta be prepared for either."

"Believe me, I've been reading up and doing my homework on it," Jim admits as she pulls away with a smile. "I still feel bad I'm dragging everyone out to California."

"What for?" Eleanora says with a raised brow. "I'll be just fine. Nothin' a phone call or a visit can't mend if I get to feelin' lonely or nostalgic."

"Plus I'll keep her plenty entertained. Now that ya'll shippin' out, I can settle in with my best friend," Pauline remarks. "I forget just how much I adore bein' in your company."

"Oh hush. You can sweeten a lemon with all that sugar you settin' to me," Eleanora fusses but smiles all the same. "Now go so you can get to your first rest stop at a decent hour."

Jim nods and waves one final goodbye before she treks out the door, down the porch steps and to Bones's car.

Bones is already buckling Joanna in, playfully poking at her sides as she giggles and he kisses her cheeks like he can't bare the thought of being apart from her.

Jim smiles as she climbs in the driver's seat and grabs the keys, which are tucked into the sun visor above her head. She starts the engine and lowers all the windows (it is particularly hot) as Bones shuts the back door. She glances in the rearview mirror to Joanna, who is sitting behind the passenger seat, and watches as Bones makes his way around the car to her door.

Bones pokes his head through the opened window and kisses her with a serious amount of intent until she's breathless with it. He pulls away and says, "Comm me when you get ready to settle down for the night. The tank is full now, so you don't have to worry about that. I put you on my insurance just in case anythin' happens when you're out on the road but I'm not really tryin' to think about it so I'll leave it at that."

Jim leans up and kisses him. "Okay. Don't start fussing. You're the one that said we'll be fine. And we will be. Right, Joanna?"

"Yup. Bye, daddy! I'm ready to ride, Ms. Jim," Joanna promises as she kicks her feet excitedly.

Jim smirks. "See. We're all set. I got my things, she's got her things, you put your things in. We're all set."

Bones nods and presses his hand to her lower stomach as he kisses her again, and again, and again, and once more until Jim laughs and shoves him away with a weak complaint. He chuckles and moves away, tucking his hands in the front pockets of his jeans as he steps back to watch them pull off.

Jim waves one final time and smiles when she sees him do the same in the rearview mirror. She sighs and focuses on the road as Joanna hums to herself. She frowns as she feels something warm and wet slide down her cheeks. She makes a sound of surprise when she brushes her fingers against it only to find it's tears. "Oh my _God_," she mutters furiously and scrubs at her eyes. "I'm _crying_. Why am I crying?"

"It's okay, Ms. Jim," Joanna quips pleasantly as she continues to swing her legs and hugs her stuffed yellow duck to her chest. "Daddy said he won't be gone from us long. You don't gots to be sad forever."

Jim laughs hoarsely and shakes her head. "I'm not sad. Not really," she says but she's not even sure because she was just crying and didn't even know it. Dear Lord, maybe she does miss him already. "Ew. I think I like your dad."

Joanna giggles. "You're silly, Ms. Jim."

Jim snorts and scrubs her face dry. "Yeah, maybe I am."

Joanna goes back to humming.

Jim flips on the radio and the rest of the drive is silent. She's halfway across the state before she makes a rest stop so that both she and Joanna can pee and get some food. They get hotdogs and fries and milkshakes and carry it back to the car with them. She makes sure to supply Joanna with plenty of napkins the whole time she eats her ketchup-soaked hotdog and fries.

As Joanna sucks away on her milkshake, she says, "I wanna be a duck!"

Jim snorts as she changes lanes and speeds up a little bit while she shoves some more fries in her mouth. "What for?"

"I don't know," Joanna replies cheerfully. "Because, um, because they're yellow and soft and they swim all sorts of good. I wanna do that too!"

"Well you go for it, little duck," Jim encourages with a grin. "Always follow your dreams."

Joanna hums pleasantly as she sips away at her milkshake and that's the end of that.

It's late when Jim crosses over into Alabama. Joanna is knocked out cold by the time she makes the executive decision to settle down in Montgomery for the night. She pulls into the parking lot of a quiet motel and she parks before she gets out to carefully extract Joanna from her seat without stirring her. She carries the toddler with her as she goes to the front desk to pay for a night. She then grabs one of Joanna's bag and her own before going up to their room.

She lays Joanna down and coaxes the little girl to stay awake long enough to change into her pajamas and empty her bladder before shuffling her into bed. When she's satisfied that Joanna is comfortable, she fishes for her communicator and calls Bones, who picks up not even a second later.

"We're all good," Jim rushes to promise because Bones looks reared up to ask all sort of questions. She turns so that he can see Joanna all tucked in. "See that. She's all settled down and still breathing. I think I'm getting the hang of it."

Bones chuckles wryly. "I keep tellin' you there's nothin' to it. You'll be a great mother."

Jim shrugs shyly. "Correction, I'll be the coolest mom in the universe. I just need to figure out that whole diaper thing."

Bones snorts. "Should I buy one of those dollies so you can practice?"

"Don't make fun."

"I'm not."

Jim just huffs and sighs before she rubs at her eyes tiredly. "I'm going to settle down myself. I'll call you before we leave in the morning okay?" She doesn't really want to end the conversation but she really is tired.

"Okay. Get some sleep."

"Lo—" Jim stops and flushes when she realizes what she was about say. "Uh, later. Later. I'll talk to you later. Just—later." She kills the connection before she can become even more mortified. She falls back against the bed with a groan and covers her face in her hands.

_What the fuck is happening to me?_ Jim thinks and falls asleep when she doesn't find an answer.

Joanna wakes her up the next morning, a quarter before ten o'clock, by bouncing up and down on the bed to the beat of a kiddie song blaring from the TV she's managed to turn on and manipulate.

Jim stretches with a lazy yawn before she sits up and grabs the motel menu from off the nightstand. She orders a hearty breakfast for the both of them and manages to wrangle Joanna in her clothes for the day before the food arrives. They spend the next fifteen minutes eating pancakes and cinnamon French toast and waffles and eggs and so on.

Jim grinds a piece of her waffle in a wad of syrup on the edge of her plate as she watches Joanna talk energetically with Bones through her communicator. Joanna seems to have a great deal to tell him and Bones is patiently attentive to her every word, even asking a silly question here or there, all in the name of getting Joanna to crack a smile or giggle.

After Jim finishes up the last of her eggs and wipes her fingers clean, she takes the communicator from Joanna and tells Bones that they're getting ready to hit the road again. He looks reluctant to end the conversation but he nods in the end and she kills the connection before either of them can change their minds.

She then treks into the bathroom to pee and brush her teeth. She makes sure to do the same for Joanna, having to change her again because she's managed to get syrup all over herself. Jim makes a mental note in the future to wait after meals to change her clothes.

They're out and about by the time noon rolls around.

Jim syncs her PADD to the sound system of the car so that she and Joanna can take turns picking different songs to sing along to. In between these songs, they make several rest stops for bathroom breaks and meals/snacks.

Jim crosses over into Louisiana and pushes past Shreveport into Texas. She decides to settle down in Dallas for the night. They stay at a nicer hotel this time, one with an indoor pool/gym and spa. She orders a cheese pizza for dinner and brownies a la mode for dessert. She lets Joanna pick what they watch on TV.

Joanna picks some kind of kooky cartoon with an ambiguous plotline and annoying characters.

Jim is on her sixth piece of pizza when she decides to play Tetris on her PADD. Eventually the sound attracts Joanna's attention and she stops eating her brownie long enough to climb into Jim's lap and commandeer her game. She picks Joanna up and sets her on the bed before she strolls to the bathroom to take a shower. She keeps the door open the whole time, just to be safe.

"Ms. Jim," Joanna says as she pads into the bathroom while Jim is busy scrubbing conditioner into her scalp. "Can I call my mommy?"

"If you know how," Jim replies loudly over the running water. "I don't mind."

"Kay, thank you," Joanna chirps before her little feet stomp away.

Jim's in the shower for another thirty minutes, and by the time she climbs out, she's nice and clean. She shrugs on one of the hotel robes and goes to her luggage to fish for some sleepwear and her paddle brush.

Joanna's lying on her back as she holds Jim's communicator over her face. She's chatting animatedly with Jocelyn and there's a moment when it gets awkward because Joanna asks about her grandfather and Jocelyn gives a noticeable pause that ends when she gives a strained reply. She switches subjects quickly before Joanna can ask for details and the conversation continues on for another fifteen minutes.

Jim's all tucked away in her sleepwear with her hair in two braids by the time Joanna kills the connection. She smiles and pokes Joanna's cheek as she says, "How about a bubble bath, little duck?"

Joanna makes a face but she nods. She follows Jim into the bathroom and she hums as she waits for Jim to fill up the small tub with suds and water. She lets Jim help her climb out of her clothes and into the tub.

Jim washes Joanna's hair and says nothing when Joanna starts building a soapy beard on Jim's chin with mischievous giggles. Of course, this is right around the time Bones chooses to call. She leaves Joanna for a second to grab her communicator and answers it.

Bones lifts an amused eyebrow when he sees her. "I feel like there's somethin' different about you," he teases.

"Oh shut up," Jim laughs as she returns to the side of the tub and crouches down again. "Your daughter is trying to make a man of me or something. I don't know how I feel about that."

"Pirate!" Joanna exclaims as she splashes the water with a giggle. "Hey daddy!"

"Hey JoJo," Bones drawls softly in reply. He looks almost sad as he looks between them. "How're my three favorite girls?"

"There's two of us, daddy," Joanna says with a peculiar frown.

Bones just hums thoughtfully before he goes on to say, "You behaving yourself, Jo-Bear?"

"Uh-huh," Joanna swears as she licks at the bit of soap on the corner of her mouth before grimacing cutely at the taste. She perks up and splashes the water again. "Daddy! Daddy, I'mma be a duck. Ms. Jim says I should follow my, um, my dreams. So I'mma be a duck, daddy."

"That right?" Bones says, sounding heavily amused. "You go right on and you do that. You'll still be my Jo-Bear right?"

Joanna nods hastily.

"I was going to call you, but, you know," Jim says as she gestures to Joanna, who's making a soap beard for herself.

"It's fine. I did wonder," Bones admits before he sighs wearily. He looks like he hasn't got any decent sleep. He confirms it by saying, "I've been holed up in the lab at the clinic makin' sure I don't leave any stone unturned. I haven't come to anythin' which means that whatever he did to that poor child, he's made sure not to leave any trace of it. It's also a bit gratin' with the reporters. They just keep flockin' from left to right. They've even takin to campin' outside the clinic. I've snuck in and out a few times."

Jim makes a face at that and shakes her head. "Well, it's only for a few more days and then you won't have to worry about it. I don't know what else to say. I wish things were different. I feel kinda bad."

"Don't," Bones warns gently and he looks a little less tense. "I knew good and well what I was getting' into when I signed up for it. It's like you said. Just a few more days and I can escape."

Jim nods wordlessly.

"Well I wont hold you. I need to get back to work. I only wanted to check up on you," Bones says with a tired sigh.

"Don't work yourself to death," Jim warns before she kills the connection. She turns back to Joanna, who has the longest soap beard she's ever seen. She laughs as says, "You are just awesome, little duck."

"I know," Joanna chirps and blows bubbles at Jim with a giggle. "I'm ready to get out. I'm wrinkly."

888

**Sunday – August 9th – Noon**

**San Francisco – Starfleet Academy & Headquarters**

Jim carries Joanna into the HQ building and, with a little direction from the receptionist at the front desk, up to Pike's office. She sets Joanna down on her feet when they get there and she waits patiently as Pike wraps up a conversation with a tall Vulcan male dressed in the instructor's uniform.

Joanna fidgets anxiously beside her and she tugs on the hem of Jim's shirt absentmindedly.

Pike takes note of them standing in his doorway and motions them in. "We'll continue this discussion later, Spock. I'll look over your request and get back to you," he promises.

The one called Spock stiffly replies, "Very well. I will await your correspondence." He sweeps past Jim and Joanna without even a cursory glance.

Jim tries not to let it get to her. She just hopes she doesn't have to endure him as a teacher in the foreseeable future. She steers Joanna inside the office and over to the second chair on the other side of the desk before she takes the chair parallel to that one.

Pike sways side to side in his chair as he smiles warmly at Joanna. "Hello," he says. "What's your name?"

"Joanna Honey McCoy," Joanna quips proudly as she hugs her stuffed yellow duck to her chest. "What's yours?"

"Well I'm Captain Christopher Pike. You can call me Chris," Pike says with a smile.

Joanna's green eyes are wide with her awe. "Can I call you Captain?"

"Sure, if that's what you want," Pike says with an agreeable nod and a humored grin.

"Okay. Can you call me Captain?" Joanna asks.

Jim snickers as she crosses her legs and shakes her head.

Pike is chuckling as well as he pulls out one of his desk drawers and fishes through it. "Sure. I can do that only if you promise to be on your best behavior while you're here," he says before setting down a plastic command badge Jim recognizes from toy stores.

She'd got a few for herself when she was little, to honor her father's memory before she faded into a moody prepubescent pre-teen and melted all those mock badges down with the torch her Uncle Frank kept in the garage.

Pike slides it across his desk and to the edge. "You wear that whenever you want everyone to know your rank," he explains.

Joanna hops up eagerly and snatches it from the desk, bringing it to Jim. "Can you put it on me, please?"

"Of course," Jim murmurs. "Where do you want it, little duck?"

"Right—" Joanna looks down at her chest before she stabs the space over her heart. "—_here._"

Jim nods and carefully pins the badge in place, ignoring the way Pike is watching them with dawning curiosity.

"Thank you," Joanna breathes and stares down at the badge like she's afraid it'll disappear at any moment and like it's the greatest thing to have ever happened to her. She jerks her head up to aim a sunny smile at Pike. "And thank you too, Captain."

"You're very welcome, Captain," Pike says with mock gravity. He even salutes her.

Joanna salutes back before she sets off to explore every inch of his office.

Pike doesn't seem to mind. "She'll find the candy dish in no time," he says quietly with a humored grin.

Jim snorts because she can believe.

"Now, how are you?" Pike asks, moving onto more important matters. "I was expecting the good Doctor to be here as well. Wouldn't be the first time he stood me up."

Jim grins and says, "He's coming. He got tied up with work back home and he's cutting off loose ends. He'll be here Tuesday."

"Fine by me. When would you like to take your placement tests?"

Jim thinks about it before she says, "I think first thing in the morning would be good. I'll drop Joanna off at daycare and come straight here. How long do they generally take? I've got a doctor's appointment that afternoon."

"That depends completely on the person taking the tests," Pike explains. "If I had to guess with you, I'd say no more than three hours."

"Okay," Jim says as she makes a mental note of that. "And the living arrangements?"

Pike nods and hands her a packet. "That's the floor plan of the condo you'll be staying in. Along with the general guidelines of the building and other common factors. It's a two-bedroom apartment with two and a half bathrooms. I figured you wouldn't mind the two bedrooms and that you'd want the little ones to share. We don't typically accommodate more than a family of four, but the size and spacing of the condo as a whole is generally very amenable to the families during their temporary stay."

"Thank you," Jim says as she begins to flip through it. "This will work just fine."

"Good. You and Dr. McCoy can decide between you what you want the entrance code for the apartment to be," Pike goes on to say. "Now, about the baby. When do you expect to deliver?"

"Beginning of March, if not late February," Jim replies and says, "I was wondering if it would be possible to do most of my coursework during that two month period that I'm not in classes. Could my work be forwarded to me by the instructors?"

"As long as you remain in constant communication with both me and your instructors, I don't see that being an issue," Pike supposes. "As for the time you missed, the beginning of this year and the start of the academic year, I'll try and see if there's a way for you to catch up without falling behind. I would really like for you and Dr. McCoy to be apart of the graduating class of 2253."

Jim nods.

"But I think that's all for now," Pike says as he stands. "If I think of anything else, I'll contact you." He offers his hand.

Jim stands and shakes it with an easy grin. "Thank you, sir."

"I have a lot of faith in your potential, Ms. Kirk," Pike admits. "Do me a favor and try not to make me look like an ass for the second time around."

Jim smiles widely. "I'll be the best recruitment story you ever had," she promises.

"From your lips to my ears," Pike murmurs before he lets go and looks over her shoulder at Joanna with a humored frown.

Jim turns and laughs as Joanna sits on the floor under a pile of candy wrappers. She's apparently cleared Pike out for his sugary confections. Jim shakes her head with an affectionate sigh. "Oh, little duck. Did you really have to eat all the candy? We're gonna have to replace it to say sorry."

Joanna stands and looks adorably contrite. "I'm sorry," she says and to show just how sorry she really is, she begins to clean up her mess.

It's enough to make Jim's heart melt and when she looks to Pike, he seems to be on the same boat. He shakes his head and says, "You don't have to replace anything. I almost expected it."

"If you're sure," Jim says before she walks over to Joanna, who is dumping the last of the wrappers in the trash. "Come on, Joanna. Salute your fellow captain and let's get going."

Joanna tucks her ducky under one arm as she uses the other hand to toss Pike a sloppy salute. "Thank you, Captain, for being nice and sorry I ate your candy and I think you've gotta nice office," she rambles.

Pike chuckles as he returns her salute with more grace. "Thank you, Captain. You enjoy your stay here," he says.

Joanna nods frantically before grabbing Jim's hand with her sticky fingers.

Jim waves at Pike briefly before she exits his office with the full intention of settling down in their new apartment. She guides Joanna out to the car, and they both climb in so that she can park on the street in front of the apartment complex they're supposed to be staying in. She gets out and untangles Joanna from the prison of her seat, and together they grab what they can carry (not a lot in Joanna's case).

Jim has to introduce herself to the security guards at the front desk area. She ends up getting some help carrying the luggage up to her room by one of them (something she's grateful for). When they have all they're things and the security guards helps her set up the entrance code for the apartment, he leaves, but not without treating Joanna to a lollipop.

Jim is left alone with Joanna and together they explore the place from top to bottom. She starts to get all sorts of ideas about how she wants to decorate the place to make it feel more like home. So she grabs her PADD and makes a list. In the midst of this, she says, "Hey, little duck. Can we quack for a second?"

Joanna comes waddling out of her room with a 'quack, quack' before coming to a stop right before Jim.

"So I have something I want to tell you," Jim says with a little smile. "Your daddy and I are going to have a baby. Which means you're gonna get a little sister. And also you're gonna have to share your room with her. How do you feel about that?"

Joanna perks up with a joyous smile. "I don't mind!" she exclaims.

Jim is relieved to hear this. "Good. Because I was thinking we can split the room right down the middle. We'll do your side however you want to do it. Then you can help me with your sister's side. I want something yellow for her side. What about you? What's your favorite color?"

"I like blue," Joanna says. "Can I have blue on my side?"

"Of course, little duck," Jim says as she stands and grabs her purse and the car keys. "Let's do some shopping. Make this place really feel like home."

"Okay," Joanna chirps easily and grabs Jim's hand.

They go to several stores and Jim spends a shitload of the earnings she's made from working with Eleanora (not to mention the few odd jobs here and there), all in the name of making their quaint little apartment into something alive and warm and full of good energy. She knows that the three (soon to be four) of them are going to need it, what with being in a new place and all. It's temporary, of course, but it didn't have to feel that way.

Jim spends the rest of that day signing for every shipped piece of furniture, for the painters, for the carpet people, and so on. By the time dinner time rolls around, Jim has the apartment looking like something out of one of those interior decorating magazines and she can't wait until Bones sees.

Joanna's room is split right down the middle (literally) with her side painted blue and themed to Cinderella.

**_(picture can be seen in LiveJournal account)_**

The other half of the room (the nursery) is painted a cool white, with one wall of orange. It's a very simplistic theme with oranges and yellows and stuffed animals. It's just adorable and Jim is so very proud of it.

**_(picture can be seen in LiveJournal account)_**

But as for the room she and Bones would be sharing, well, that had been a bit more challenging. So she decided to go with something neutral and something she felt fit the both of them. She picked a more sleek and modern look (black and white).

**_(picture can be seen in LiveJournal account)_**

Jim is so knackered by the end of it all that she spreads out on the couch in the living room and has no plans to get up anytime soon. She grabs the remote on the glass coffee table and flips on the TV.

Joanna eventually comes to find her and climbs on top of her to rest her head on Jim's chest. She falls asleep shortly after and Jim has to carry her to bed and tuck her in. She then turns on the LED constellation lamp she bought for Joanna to help her sleep because she's come to notice that Joanna is somewhat frightened of the dark.

Jim tucks away in her own room, keeping the bedroom door wide open just in case Joanna needs her for something. She climbs into bed as she puts on some sleepwear and she tries to call Bones but he doesn't pick up so she leaves a message. She then puts the device on the nightstand before setting an alarm on her PADD. She hunches down under the covers and spends the next fifteen minutes praying before she drifts off to sleep.

She doesn't let herself think about how lonely she feels in that big bed all by herself.

888

**Monday – August 10th – 8 a.m.**

One doesn't need an alarm if they are lucky enough to know Ms. Joanna Honey McCoy.

Jim is beginning to understand this.

Joanna has managed to climb into bed with her, waking Jim up with gentle kisses stamped onto her cheeks and eyelids and forehead. She is a very affectionate little girl, which is no wonder really because her father is just the same.

Jim thinks its nice how comfortable Joanna is with her. Joanna is quickly cementing a place for herself in Jim's heart.

"Mornin', Ms. Jim," Joanna says as she tangles her little fingers in Jim's bedridden hair. "I'm hungry."

"Okay," Jim says with a yawn.

"Can I watch the cartoons?" Joanna asks.

Jim smiles and says, "You don't have to ask me that. As long as you're careful."

Joanna beams and climbs out of bed.

Jim watches her little body disappear out of sight and soon she can hear the animated theatrics of a kids' show echoing in the front room. She sits up and rubs at her eyes as she reaches for her communicator. She's disappointed when she sees that Bones hadn't tried to call her back. She climbs out of bed and tries not to let it bother her as she goes to the bathroom to pee.

Then she goes to the kitchen to look in the empty fridge for something that can hold Joanna over until they make it to the daycare. Jim specifically remembers that the place serves breakfast. Plus she hadn't gone shopping because she wanted Bones to be the one to take care of that. It's only one more day until he's here.

Jim frowns as she grabs the leftover salad from the lunch they had at that one restaurant yesterday. She calls Joanna over to the kitchen table and laughs at the face she makes when she sees what's waiting for her.

"But I don't like salads," Joanna protests.

"Really?" Jim pretends to think about it. "I think I read somewhere that ducks love salad."

Joanna narrows her eyes at Jim suspiciously and when Jim just goes on grinning, she reluctantly starts to eat.

Jim chuckles and drops a kiss on the top of Joanna's head. "I'm going to go take a shower and get ready. Then I'll come take care of you."

Joanna just nods distractedly as she moves to the other side of the table so that the flat screen TV in the living room can be in her view.

Jim leaves her to go take a shower and get dressed for the day. When she's all sorted out, she grabs one of her prenatal hyposprays and it hisses as she presses it against her neck before she goes to get Joanna ready.

They're up and out the door by ten o'clock, which Jim views as perfect timing.

The walk to Starfleet Daycare only takes five minutes because it is literally around the corner. Joanna clings to Jim's hand tightly as they enter the building. Jim notes that the place is large and colorful, catering to almost all types of kids, whether they are human or not. She walks to the front office and there's a receptionist called Cassidy who asks her to wait a moment.

Jim sits down and watches the other parents and kids glide in and out of the office. She takes the small pause to text Bones and let him know that she's dropping off Joanna for her first day. By the time she's done, a woman with cropped blonde hair that hangs slanted right around her chin appears. She has steel grey eyes that sit behind thin black-framed glasses. She's wearing a pink short-sleeved turtleneck tucked into a silk turquoise pencil skirt with dark blue pumps on her small feet. In her arms are a wide leather-bound journal and a white ink pen. She's gorgeous in a regal way.

"Ms. Kirk. I'm Dr. Elizabeth Dehner," she says, offering a manicured hand with a pristine smile. "I'm the Assistant Director to the facility. Unfortunately, not long before you came, our Director went away on sabbatical. But I'm confident that I can help get your daughter settled."

Jim thinks about correcting her but she ultimately chooses not to. She shakes the woman's hand with a polite smile. "Well, I'm not sure if it was you or someone else that my—that her father talked to. But he told me that he submitted all the necessary paperwork and that since the two of us are both attending the Academy, the normal fees would be waivered and she'd get to come in early and stay later," she says.

Dr. Dehner nods promptly. "Yes, you are certainly correct. Here at the daycare, we want to provide ample opportunity and accommodation for each parent and child, especially when one or more persons are enlisted to the Academy, which we're sponsored by. Now I was going over the paperwork and I see that she's three—more than likely she'll be assigned to Mrs. Harris. In fact, we can take the time to meet with her for a few minutes." She smiles down at Joanna. "Are you ready to see your class?"

Joanna nods enthusiastically but she squeezes Jim's hand like she doesn't plan on letting go.

Jim follows Dr. Dehner out of the office and into the hall where they maneuver their way to the classroom on the other side of the cafeteria, which is filled to the brim with kids, snacking away on breakfast.

Dr. Dehner stops at a door littered with hearts and finger paintings and a name plaque that says 'Juniper Harris'. She knocks twice before entering the room.

Juniper Harris is a portly woman with numerous freckles, cornflower blue eyes, and an apparent cat lover if the sweater she's wearing is any indication. She's wearing capris pants with white trainers, and she's strumming away at a candy orange guitar as all the toddlers sit in a circle around her, clapping along joyously. When Juniper sees Dr. Dehner, as well as Jim and Joanna, she smiles and turns to flag down her assistant, who takes over for her.

Juniper waddles up to the three of them and says, "Howdy. What do we got here?" She's got a strong Texan accent.

Dr. Dehner introduces, "This is Jim Kirk, and her daughter, Joanna McCoy. She'll be joining your class for the rest of the year."

"You don't say," Juniper gushes and crouches down to be eye-level with Joanna. "How you doin' little lady? I'll be mighty glad to have you apart of my brood, but you gotta answer me this one thing—you like to have fun?"

Joanna nods frantically.

Juniper beams and winks. "Well welcome to the castle. Call me Ms. Juniper. You can go set your book bag and shoes over there and we'll work on putting your name to your bin, kay?"

Joanna nods but hesitates as she looks up at Jim, as though silently asking permission.

"Go on, little duck. I'll be back to pick you up later," Jim promises and smiles just to reassure her.

Joanna hugs Jim's leg before she runs off to put her things down.

Juniper straightens and shakes Jim's hand. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Kirk. I'm gone take real good care of your girl, rest assured."

"I believe you will," Jim says. "You'll get to meet her father Wednesday when he comes to drop her off."

"Alright then," Juniper says. "You ever have any questions or concerns, you let me know straightway."

"Can do," Jim responds before she follows Dr. Dehner out. She says her goodbyes to the woman before she exits the building and heads to the Academy grounds. She feels even lonelier by herself without Joanna around. She doesn't even realize she's crying until she meets Pike halfway and he points it out. "Oh God, really?" She quickly wipes her face and makes a frustrated sound. "Damn hormones," she mutters, but it feels more like an excuse than anything.

Pike smiles amusedly before cups his hand over her shoulder. "I take it you dropped Joanna off," he says as he steers her to the science building.

"Yeah," Jim says hoarsely and then doesn't say much after that.

Pike seems to understand. He doesn't try to make small-talk. He guides her to an empty classroom where the Vulcan she recognizes as Spock is waiting. "Commander Spock will be overseeing your examination time. You get four fifteen minute breaks, if you need them, and the results will be submitted right away to the academic board upon completion. By the end of this month, I should know what to do with you. Classes start on the 31st. Good luck, Ms. Kirk." He nods to Jim and then to Spock before he strides out the room.

Jim crosses her arms and looks at Spock expectantly.

Spock's facial expression looks like its carved in stone, and it's a bit intimidating. He hands Jim a sleek PADD. "You will find all necessary assessments have been compiled to a certain order. Since you are seeking to pursue the command track, all queries will be correlated to this precise field. You may begin when you are ready."

Jim says nothing as she takes the PADD from him and finds an aisle to sit in.

Spock tucks away behind his work desk and carries on doing whatever it is he was doing before. Probably grading tests papers or whatever.

Jim focuses through the silence and tries not to second-guess any of her answers.

True to Pike's calculations, she's able to finish in just under three hours. She leaves the PADD with Spock, who, again, doesn't spare her a cursory glance. She doesn't bother thinking about it as she exits the classroom and checks the face of her communicator, frowning when she still doesn't see even a word of reply from Bones. It's beginning to annoy her.

Jim shoots him a curt text, informing him that she's on her way to her prenatal appointment, you know, if he cared to know that is. She makes her way across campus grounds and climbs into his black mustang, driving out to the hospital, but not before stopping to get herself some chicken tacos from a little taco stand on the way.

It's the best chicken taco she's ever had, that's for sure.

Jim devours every single bite before she strolls into the hospital and follows the directions of one of the nurses to the gestation ward. She sits in the waiting area and waits for her name to be called as she flips through a magazine. When it finally comes time for her to head to a designated room, she's practically falling asleep.

A moment later, a Hindu woman with soft chocolate eyes and very long black hair appears. She looks to be in her mid-thirties and she's got the build of a ballet dancer. She grabs a chair and Jim's virtual chart before she says (in a heavily accented voice), "Hello. My name is Dr. Gupta. I'm the head of the Gynecology and Obstetrics here in this hospital. I see you're about nine weeks along, is that correct?"

Jim nods.

"Okay, so far it seems like you've been experiencing heavy morning sickness. In your charts I see your previous doctor prescribed you some medicine to counter it. Do you still need those filled?" Dr. Gupta asks.

Jim thinks about it before she shakes her head. "No—well, I mean, I ran out like a week ago and so far I haven't had any trouble keeping anything down on my own."

"Good. Good. Yes that can happen sometimes. All it takes is time," Dr. Gupta says before she sets the chart down and pulls on some latex gloves. "I'm going to do some standard tests, okay? And then we'll discuss your progress and any concerns you may have."

Jim nods. After a few brief basic tests and preliminary questions, Dr. Gupta has Jim take off her shirt and lie back on the biobed so they can do an ultrasound. She indicates in what ways the baby has grown and how healthy the development is so far. After that, she writes Jim a prescription for iron supplements, which also acts as an appetite inducer. She urges Jim to gain at least twelve pounds by their next appointment.

Jim shrugs on her coat and leaves to fill the prescription, checking her communicator for the time and avidly ignoring the fact that Bones _still _hasn't returned any of her texts or calls. She swings by the day care to pick up Joanna early, and as a treat to the good behavior Juniper praises Joanna for her first day, she takes her to a roller-skating rink just two miles away.

Jim used to go skating all the time when she was a kid, and she's certainly looking forward to how Joanna responds to the activity. But of course, she only ends up being all kinds of adorable in her little crème skates with orange wheels. They start off in the beginner's room, just so Jim can get the hang of it again and also to give Joanna a chance to learn.

"Now don't tell your dad we did this," Jim says as Joanna wobbles and latches onto her hand to get her balance back. "He'd probably freak."

"I won't say nothin', Ms. Jim," Joanna promises with severe graveness. She pushes away from Jim and begins to bravely skate on her own. She claps her hands and wobbles but quickly catches herself. "Can we go out to the big floor?"

"Only if you think you're ready, little duck," Jim supposes.

Joanna nods and skates to her, latching onto her hand as they make their way out of the room and to the large floor where strobe lights are glimmering to the beat of the music the DJ is playing.

Jim let's go of Joanna's hand when they begin to skate around the length of the large floor. She skates backwards in order to keep an eye on Joanna.

"Ms. Jim, can I ask you something?" Joanna asks as they make their way around for the fifth time.

"You can ask me anything," Jim says, and kind of feels slightly like she may regret it.

Joanna says, "Well, today in Ms. Juniper's class we were talkin' bout our mommies and daddies. Then I said that I gots a daddy and _two _mommies but Kyle said that you can't have two mommies unless they live together. Is that true?"

Jim almost stumbles at the question but she manages to catch herself. "Uh—I don't—just—it depends, I guess," she says.

"On what?"

"A lot of things. Like if you're adopted, or if they do live together, or don't live together." Jim doesn't think she's explaining this right. "Jo—why's it matter?"

"Cause I want you to be my mommy too. Ms. Juniper says that mommies are people who take good care of you and make you feel good and treats you with a whole lotta love. But I already knew that. That's what you've been doin'," Joanna points out as she stumbles to her knees.

Jim frowns as she helps her stand. "Yes, but—um, I don't think your mom would like it very much," she supposes.

"Mommy doesn't care. Daddy doesn't either. I told them I know the difference. I do," Joanna promises. "Mommy can still be mommy. And you can be momma."

Jim blanches at that. "You had a conversation with your parents about calling me—about the fact that you—um, I just need to think about this for a second."

Joanna skates forward and grabs Jim's hand. "I like you, Ms. Jim and my daddy likes you too. We all live together and you gonna make me a sister. She's gonna call you momma too and I didn't wanna be the only one who didn't get to," she confesses, sounding just a scale older than she really is.

Jim is quietly amazed and just a little touch. "Oh, Jo," she sighs because Joanna feeling left out or less loved because of the baby is exactly what she wanted to not happen. She makes an executive decision she's not even completely sure of. It—couldn't hurt to try. "Okay. Tell you what, you can call me momma and I'll promise to try and adjust to it. And if you want to stop at any time and go back to calling me by my given name, I swear I won't be mad."

Joanna beams and hugs her leg tightly before she pulls back and says, "Look what I can do, momma!" She does a slow spin.

Jim grins and applauds her. "Very good, little duck. You'll be an expert yet." Her stomach grumbles. "You hungry? I think they sell nachos."

"I like cheese," Joanna says as a way of reply.

"Well good because there'll be plenty of it," Jim says and steers Joanna over to the food court.

They go home when the rink closes, and Jim swings by that glorious taco stand on the way back. When they make it up to the apartment, they spread themselves out on the floor and pick a movie to watch as they eat.

Joanna falls asleep twenty minutes into it with half of churro still in her tiny mouth.

Jim's heart feels all sorts of wobbly as she cleans Joanna up, stuffs her in some pajamas and tucks her in her bed. She turns on her nightlight and leaves the door cracked before she returns to the front room to tidy it up. She then hides away in her room and strips down to her underwear. The sheets of the bed feel nice and cool against her tender breasts as she lies face down and peruses through her communicator.

Jim falls asleep with Bones wrapped up in her thoughts and prayers.

Ten minutes into midnight, she jerks awake at the sensation of something warm and wet skating across the elastic band of her underwear. She blinks and stills her fist when she realizes its Bones.

He smirks up at her from where he's settled between her thighs.

Jim makes an eager sound (which she will deny to the death) as she sits up and pulls him into a furious kiss. She tugs his hair punishingly and tries not to tremble too much or say something stupid like how much she missed him. "When did you get in?" she asks between kisses. "You weren't supposed to be here until way later."

"Wanted to surprise you," Bones says as he eases her onto her back again and slides her underwear down her thighs, tossing them over his shoulder when he's got them completely off. "It's interestin' what you've done with the place."

"You like it?" Jim gasps when he starts kissing his way down her body. "You like it, don't you?"

"S'fine, Jim," Bones murmurs distractedly against her quivering stomach. "Missed you."

Jim trembles and closes her eyes against the words as it wraps like warm bands around her heart. "How much?" she croaks and bites her bottom lip as her lashes stick together wetly.

Bones tugs her body down lower and rests her legs over his shoulders. His large hands grip her hips tightly as he meets her eyes. "Let me show you," he murmurs, voice a deep husk of dark promise, and lowers his head.

Jim gasps and arches her back as her fingers tangle in the sheets.

Bones spends the rest of that early morning claiming his place in their bed, in her body, (and in her heart).

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>_Revive me with your reviews. _


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Tuesday – August 11th – 6 a.m.**

Jim is exhausted, but in a satisfied sort of way. She lies curled up into Bones's side on their California king-sized bed in comfortable silence. She doesn't let herself think about how much she missed this or missed him and his touch and the way he made love to her like he wanted her to be consumed by it because he (himself) is consumed by it. Jim likes the fact that Bones expresses himself boldly and passionately. She hopes their daughter comes out the same way—all heart and no fear. Jim can be brave when it counts, but when it came to anything emotional, well, she was quite gutless.

A hard life of disappointment and pain will do that to you.

"What took you so long?" Jim asks when she's tired of being inside of her own head and she winces when she realizes what she just asked—how it sounded. A shade of pink blossoms in her cheeks when Bones chuckles tiredly like he's so very fucking fond of her—like he loves her little slip-ups. "Shut up," she mutters into his shoulder before she lifts her head to meet his eyes. "I _meant_—why didn't you call me back or return my texts?"

"Got in the thick of that autopsy. Felt like I was on to somethin' and I figured if I just succumbed to it that I'd get out faster," Bones supposes before tucking her hair behind her ears with a sentimental face that makes her blush deepen. "Turns out that what he used on Dixie was some sort of otherworldly vinegar only found in Cardassian glyphosate herbicide. Now, this one was very specific since it's normally used to target their more aggressive wildflowers. The very same kinds of wildflowers that just so happen to have the same type of RNA strand found in developin' human fetuses. It's not harmful to adults, just unborn babies."

"That's sickening," Jim says with an outraged face. "That he'd do something like that to his daughter. That's mad."

"Yeah, couldn't agree more," Bones says, quite candidly as he runs a hand through his messy hair. "I submitted my findings to the review board assigned to his case, and hopefully it's enough to lock that bastard up for the rest of his days."

Jim makes an incoherent sound of agreement. "Have they started the deliberations?"

"Not sure, but I think they might've right before I shipped out," Bones guesses.

Jim considers following the story through the media, but then she scraps the idea altogether because she is over it and she's trying to move on with her life. She smiles to herself and she bites Bones's shoulder just to watch him flinch and swear before she rolls out of his reach and swaggers to their bathroom, naked as the day she was born. She's all too glad that they have both a stand-in shower and a Jacuzzi bathtub. She goes for the shower this time around and isn't surprised when Bones joins her when she's shampooing her hair for the second time.

They take turns washing each other and just savoring each other's presence.

Jim climbs into a strapless red/white polka dotted dress and some red flip-flops before she brushes her hair into a messy bun with her long bangs falling into her blue eyes.

Bones throws on some dark jeans and one of his plaid shirts (the red one that Jim likes) and some dark boots. He looks every bit of the countryman he is and she has half of a mind to drag him to bed again.

Jim doesn't though. She'll save that for later. For now, she follows him into the kitchen and watches with good humor as he opens their (very empty) two-door fridge with a miffed sound.

Bones slowly turns to her with a raised brow and says, "Really?"

Jim shrugs with a grin. "What? I figured you'd do all that grocery crap. You know better out of all of us what should be in there," she points out and she knows she's won the argument because Bones just rolls his eyes and mutters things that vaguely sound like "_you're obnoxious_" and "_so goddamn lucky I find you adorable_" and "_you probably fed up on junk food all week_". She says, "Can we sit down somewhere to have breakfast though, before we go shopping? I heard it's like the worst idea to shop hungry."

Bones nods as he shuts the desolate fridge and aims his hazel eyes to the other side of the apartment where Joanna and the baby's room rests. "I'mma go get Jo up and dressed, then we can go," he promises.

"Kay—but dress her in something red."

Bones looks unfailingly amused.

"We should, you know, match and stuff."

Bones's lips are twitching.

"I've been reading up on family bonding things and it said—"

Bones is definitely chuckling now.

"Oh fuck you. Whatever. Fine. Do what you want. I don't even care."

"Whatever _you_ want," Bones swears, hazel eyes twinkling. "Color coordination and all." He snickers all the way to Joanna's room.

Jim just sighs in reply as she grabs the TV remote on the island counter before she hops up to sit on the edge and swing her feet lazily. She flips through different stations before she finds a news channel she deems less obnoxious than most. Though, it isn't short on universal propaganda, that's for sure.

Bones returns with a giggling and totally ecstatic Joanna atop his shoulders. He's put her in a pair of Minnie Mouse white and red overall shorts and white tank top with matching flip-flops.

Jim manages to break her concentration long enough to appreciate the way he's smiling up at his daughter as she cradles his face between her small hands. She grins a little to herself before she turns the TV off and slides onto her feet.

Bones leads the way out and he carries Joanna on her shoulders all the way to the car as she rambles away about what she and Jim have been doing without him.

Jim's sliding into the passenger seat of Bones's car when she uncaps a small tube of red lipstick and applies it.

After Bones buckles Joanna in, he climbs in the front seat and starts the car.

Joanna finishes her tales with, "—and we did **_not _**go skating, daddy."

Jim snorts and rolls her eyes.

Bones sends her a look. "Jim—"

"I have amazing balance and she didn't hurt herself and neither did I," Jim interrupts before he can really get started. "I could probably teach you how to skate. I taught Joanna and she's amazing. You should really see."

Joanna claps her hands excitedly and agrees.

Bones just grunts and that's as close as a consent as he's ever going to give to something he's not entirely comfortable with.

Jim counts it as a win anyway and she mentally makes a reminder for herself to have several more visits to the skating rink with Bones and Joanna.

They drive to a local restaurant up the way and settle down into a booth beside the windows.

Bones and Jim share a stack of waffles between them with some eggs and some sausage that Jim doesn't really eat and leaves to Bones.

Joanna happily munches away on some smiley-face chocolate chip pancakes as she watches them fuss over a mental grocery list their compiling together.

"Look, all I'm saying is that I refuse to live in an apartment that has no cosmopolitan ice-cream sandwiches," Jim says as she drowns her waffles in the corn syrup that Bones insisted she use and petitioned their waitress for. "That's it, that's all."

"That's it, that's all?" Bones huffs as he shoves another piece of greasy sausage in his mouth.

"Yup," Jim says and licks some syrup off her thumb.

"You're allergic to strawberry," Bones points out. "Joanna's allergic to strawberry too. I don't see the point in it. We can get all vanilla or all chocolate."

"Meh," Jim says with a disgruntled expression before she looks to Joanna who perks up under her attention. "What say you, little duck? Chocolate or vanilla."

"Both, momma!" Joanna exclaims around a mouthful of food.

Jim turns to Bones with a smug look, even though her cheeks are a little pink from Joanna's new little name for her.

Bones snorts in amusement and he grabs a napkin as he attempts to clean the streaks of blueberry syrup off Joanna's cheeks and on her chin.

They eat the rest of their breakfast in companionable silence, and when it's time to leave, Jim pays for it because she can and she likes it when Bones lets her without a word or some kind of macho speech about male obligation. Together they go to Starfleet Daycare and drop off Joanna for the noon classes with a promise to return for her later.

Jim watches the way that Bones introduces himself to Joanna's teacher, Mrs. Juniper Harris, who receives him warmly with an equally slow southern accent. One would almost think they were long lost cousins the way they got on so well. She fiddles with her ring as she waits for him by the door and gives a little wave to Joanna who is huddled in the corner with some of her classmates and some virtual building blocks.

Bones comes finds her when he feels confident about leaving Joanna with Ms. Juniper and he presses a hand between Jim's shoulder blades to steer her into the hall and out of the building to his car. He drives to the local grocery store where they get separate shopping carts because they can't seem to agree on what they put into it.

Jim mostly puts junk food in hers—things she thinks that both she and Joanna will enjoy. Like chips and candy and sweet cakes and cookies and ice cream.

Bones mostly puts healthy food in his—things he knows will be good for all of them. Like organically grown fruits and vegetables, and weird rice and gluten-free products and a whole lot of other things that Jim would never even think to buy.

"You're boring," Jim complains as she stands across from him in the self-checkout area. "I bet it takes like a truck full of salt or sugar to make that stuff taste good."

"I'll manage just fine," Bones scoffs. "With the way I'll make it, you won't even know it's good for you."

"You better," Jim warns playfully and bags up all her items before paying for them. She swings her cart over to his and helps him with his items even though he fusses at her for it. She bumps her hips into his when he drops the last bagged item in his cart and playfully says, "Race you to the car! Loser has dish duty!"

Bones mutters a curse under his breath but he gives into the chase as they dart out of the store like a pair of overgrown kids and into the parking lot to his car.

Jim laughs as she maneuvers her way across the concrete and even shouts at Bones when he goes the wrong way. Of course she makes it to the car first and Bones, being the sore loser he is, swears up and down that she tricked him somehow as he corners her against the passenger side door and presses her into it.

Bones sweeps her up into biting kiss fueled with frustrated affection.

Jim's breathless by the end of it and she feels so lightheaded that she doesn't say anything when he puts away the bags by himself. She buckles in when he climbs into the car and he drives back to the apartment complex. She helps him carry everything in (mostly the light bags because that's all he'd let her grab) and together they put everything away in the cabinets and in the fridge.

Bones grabs an orange from the small fruit basket set in the center of the kitchen island and he starts peeling away at it as he hops up to sit on the edge.

Jim walks over and stands between his legs. She watches (slightly captivated) as his methodical hands tear that tangerine apart. She follows each piece up until it disappears behind his sumptuously full lips.

Bones chews and looks down at her with a raised brow. "You look hungry," he murmurs with barely concealed amusement.

Jim rolls her eyes as she leans up on the tips of her toes and runs her tongue along the seam of his bottom lip. She pulls back with a smirk when he tries to kiss her. "Your lips, Bones—just, God, sometimes I wanna ride your face," she whispers.

Bones flushes a little but there's a certain heat in his hazel eyes. He cups his hand over the back her neck and sinks his tongue in her mouth like he's trying to fuck her open with it.

Jim moans because he tastes sweet like orange citrus. She has half a mind to climb up on the counter after him but she staves off the urge so she can pull back and say, "Let's watch a movie."

Bones feeds her his last two pieces of orange slices before he slides off the counter. "What did you have in mind?"

Jim chews, swallows, and licks her lips before she says, "Lord of the Rings. One of the guys on there looks just like you, it's uncanny I swear."

Bones lifts a brow and snorts. "You talkin' about that actor—Karl Urban? Cause I've heard that a few times before," he admits.

Jim smiles and grabs his hand to guide him to the front room. She shoves him onto the couch and says, "Actually I was talking about Sméagol—but I guess if you squint really hard, then sure, one _could _say you look like Karl Urban. He's pretty hot."

Bones makes a face and grabs her wrist, yanking her to him until she falls in his lap with a loud laugh. As revenge, he starts digging his fingers into her sides and all the ticklish spots he must know by heart and that's so unfair.

"I'm kidding!" Jim swears and she squeals and tries to curl up. "You're way hotter than he is! Like super mega fucking sexy!"

Bones huffs but he stops tickling her. "Don't you forget it," he warns and grins when she straddles him.

Jim bites his cheek before throwing her arms around his neck and pulling back. "You wanna marathon it though?"

"Let's leave it for the weekend. They're pretty long and I wouldn't want us to forget Joanna just cause we got lost in the world of elves and hobbits," Bones supposes. "We can watch somethin' else in the mean time."

"Okay," Jim sighs as she thinks. "Well, we could start a show together. Something that has a lot of episodes or whatever. Really bond over it." She twists around so that she's sitting in his lap and she grabs the remote and starts browsing through the video library.

It takes them a while to actually agree on something, as it usually does, but they come to the mutual agreement of watching Dexter. It appeals to Bones's inner medical geek while it enticed the rebellious deviant in Jim. And before either of them knows it, it's already time to go pick up Joanna.

Jim tries to encourage Bones to go pick her up by himself but he doesn't trust Jim for a second not to continue watching without him and so he drags her along.

Joanna is excited to see them both (of course) and she presents them both with a candy necklace that she crafted herself out of jellybeans and gummy worms and soft chewy candy.

Jim thanks her a million times for it as she eats it on the walk back to the apartment.

Bones doesn't seem the slightest surprised when Jim commandeers his necklace and eats it as well. He does still accuse her of being greedy in that exasperatedly fond tone of his.

Joanna requests spaghetti for dinner, which Bones obliges because he's a big softie, and he kind of bullies Jim into helping him so she can learn how to make it too.

Joanna watches them with widely amused eyes before she gets bored with it all and wanders off to the living room to commandeer the TV and switch on something she likes.

They sit down at the kitchen table when the food is done and Bones serves everyone.

Joanna rambles on about her day and her favorite people and her favorite activities at the daycare. She gets spaghetti sauce all over herself in the process (but that's to be expected really).

Bones and Jim play 'rock, paper, scissors' over who gets to give her a bath.

Bones wins because of course he wins.

Jim makes a silent vow to figure out his system because this is getting ridiculous. She guides Joanna to her bathroom while Bones stays behind to clean the kitchen. It takes her less than thirty minutes to get Joanna all cleaned and sorted out.

Joanna invites Jim to stay and join her 'Extra Special Weekly Tuesday Tea Party' and Jim is so honored that she graciously accepts. Joanna even bestows a silver bedazzled plastic crown fit for a queen on her while she wears a small tiara herself like the little princess she is.

Bones finds them right when they're in the middle of a debate about whether or not grilled cheese sandwiches taste better topped with skittles or marshmallows. So far, Jim is losing when Bones says, "You two have bizarre tastes."

"That's something only a _commoner _says," Jim says with a posh drawl, taking her pretend role as a queen quite seriously.

Bones rolls his eyes and crosses his arms as he stands in the doorway. "A commoner? Really? I thought I was the King of the house."

Jim kind of actually likes that idea. But she likes teasing him more. So she sniffs and says, "This is an apartment. Not a house. Simple peasant mistake."

Bones rolls his eyes.

Jim makes a shooing motion. "Go away. You have common blood."

"Common blood?" Bones pretends to be offended as he slaps a hand over his chest, playing into this little game that Jim's spinning. He looks to Joanna for support. "Am I common, Jo-Bear?"

Joanna cocks her head as she considers him for a moment. "It's true, daddy. Sorry. We already decided."

"Ha!" Jim exclaims because she is a mature adult.

"Why can't I be a King?" Bones asks and he frowns and Jim thinks he looks adorable.

Joanna explains, "_Because, _daddy. You just can't."

Bones narrows his eyes. "What's Jim?"

"Momma's a Queen!"

"Now how is _that_ fair? What's a Queen without a King?"

"Well, historically better," Jim supposes and laughs at the playful glare he sends her way. She leans forward and does a quick sidebar with Joanna. When they pull away, Jim is grinning madly. "Tell you what, Commoner, our very gracious Duck Princess has petitioned a request on your behalf. We have decided that we will hold a very special super awesome tournament and if you can win, we'll make you a Knight."

"That so?" Bones drawls. He spreads his arms and says, "Fine. What do I have to do?"

"Tell us how pretty we are!" Joanna exclaims as she sips away at her imaginary tea.

Jim smirks. "I like the way you think, little duck. That is a _fantastic _place to start."

They look at him expectantly.

"Well," Bones starts. "You're both very gorgeous. You have lovely eyes and lovely hair and lovely skin. You glow like the sun and the moon and the stars and every bright-shining thing in the galaxy. I'm often blinded by it."

"That's kinda corny," Jim remarks but smiles. "_But _it'll have to do. So, moving on—now what we require is a hand-stand."

"Really?"

"Chop, chop," Jim says, clapping her hands together and fixes her crown as she sniffs primly.

"Do a hand-stand, daddy!" Joanna urges.

"Fine, fine," Bones grumbles.

Jim leans forward eagerly and watches as Bones does an absolutely perfect handstand. He even pushes it a little further by doing it one-handed.

Joanna cheers.

Bones stands on his feet again and looks unfairly smug.

"Okay, that was kinda really cool," Jim relents and turns to Joanna. "You pick what he does next."

Joanna perks up and looks at Bones with a happy grin. "Tell a joke that makes us laugh _really_ hard!"

Bones asks, "Why does a Moon-rock taste better than an Earth-rock?"

Jim fights back a smile and says, "Oh God. This is gonna be terrible, isn't it? Okay. Why?"

"Because it's a little meteor?"

Joanna laughs like it's the funniest thing she's ever heard and Jim rolls her eyes but grudgingly snickers because it's funny in a dumb kind of way.

Bones clasps his hands together and shakes them from side to side before he bows. Then he straightens. "Now, did I pass your little tournament? Did I prove myself?" he asks and crosses his arms.

Jim and Joanna have a quick sidebar again before Jim pulls away and sighs heavily as she says, "I _suppose _you have. Step forward, Commoner. Princess Joanna is going to officiate things."

Joanna hops to her feet with a glittery scepter and urges Bones to get on his knees.

Bones complies with an amused grin.

Jim clears her throat and says, "By the royal decree of Queen James and Princess Joanna, we hereby proclaim you, Sir Leonard McCoy, an honorable man worthy to hold the royal banner."

"And you have to promise to protect me and momma and the baby from all the bad scary things and love us forever and ever and tell us we're pretty all the time," Joanna adds before she taps both his shoulders with her glittery scepter.

"Promise," Bones says with an absurd smile that Jim should not find devastatingly breathtaking but she fucking _does._

"Yay! You're a Knight now, daddy," Joanna says with an admiring tone.

"Fantastic," Bones drawls as he stands and sweeps Joanna off her feet as she giggles. "And my first order of business is to see the Duck Princess to be bed because she has to get up bright and early tomorrow for royal daycare."

Joanna squirms in his arms and litters his cheeks with kisses. She doesn't stop squirming, even when he tucks her in and begs for a bedtime story.

Jim watches with a smile and her heart flutters a little at the sight of them. She waits until Bones finishes his wildly spun tale before she switches off the lights, turns on the LED nightlight, and stamps a gentle kiss on Joanna's forehead with a soft goodnight. She follows Bones out of the room and to their own where they begin their nightly ritual.

After they slip into bed together, they stay up for a little while talking about different things. Mostly about Joanna and the baby, about how their going to pay for the bills, about how hectic their respective schedules could possibly be, and other serious topics.

Jim usually doesn't like to bother with such talks, but with Bones she feels confident enough to do so. Sure they fuss and argue before they come to any real agreement, but Jim likes that too.

She wouldn't trade it for anything in the universe and that kind of scares her.

888

**Wednesday – August 12th – Noon**

After they drop Joanna off, Jim accompanies Bones to the Academy grounds, where they meet Pike. She doesn't say much of anything as she watches Pike and Bones get to know each other in the weird way that all males do with handshakes and straightened spines and assessing gazes. It takes about ten minutes but Bones relaxes and Pike's tone of voice warms considerably, so Jim guesses that they're all on the same page now.

"Dr. McCoy, I'd be happy to take you to your place of assessment, though I have to warn you beforehand that because your field is of a different nature to Ms. Kirk's, well, it's a guarantee that it's going to take longer. We'll essentially need to work out the level of your medical experience," Pike explains as the three of them stand out on that busy quad, surrounded by multiple busy bodies dressed in red uniforms.

Bones looks to Jim like he wants to say something.

Jim understands the look enough and she shrugs. "I'm sure I can keep myself busy for however long it takes. And if it does take that long, I'll pick up Joanna and just meet you back at the apartment," she suggests.

Bones nods and the question leaves his face.

Pike proposes, "There's a library just over there." He points east. "It's connected to the Recreational building. I'm sure you'll find something of interest there."

Jim likes libraries. She's frequented them enough when she was a lonely and misunderstood youth. "Yeah. I just might do that," she supposes. She gives them both a faint wave before she treks right over to the library and finds her way on the third floor. She's not really sure what she's looking for but she grabs a few random books and piles them together. She takes them to an empty table and dissects all of their individual content one by one.

Jim is halfway into a hardcover about forensic psychology when knuckles softly rap on the table to get her attention. She looks up and blinks at the wide-eyed smile being aimed at her by a very curvy Orion female with thick curly red hair.

"Congratulations."

"What?"

"Are you not expecting?"

Jim is floored.

"My name is Gaila. You have beautiful eyes. I would like to copulate with you," Gaila says, erratically.

Jim blinks and opens her mouth to say something but she can't quite formulate a reply.

"You're hesitating. But you can't be surprised. You are very pleasing to look at and I know you must receive multiple petitions from different suitors. Though I suppose the reason you hesitate is because you may already be claimed. I have come to understand that Humans are fond of monogamy, though I do not generally understand the concept myself for it is a foreign practice to my species," Gaila rambles, ignorant to Jim's look of bewildered amusement. "Did your mate impregnate you to make his claim deliberate and firm? I must confess that if you were mine, I would feel obliged to do the same."

Jim flushes and Gaila grins, sliding into the seat across from her. She has to remember that Gaila has a different culture from her own and she has to approach this delicately. "I—uh, wow. I'm flattered, Gaila. Really. I just—I'm not looking to be with anyone right now." She doesn't explain any further than that. "How did you know I was pregnant?"

"Orions can detect certain chemical patterns in other species as well as in our own," Gaila proudly explains as she taps the side of her nose. "I am disappointed that you do not want to copulate with me, but I respect your rejection. May I suggest that we defer to friendship? I like having companions."

"Sure," Jim says and she's just beyond amused at this point. "Jim Kirk."

"Nice to make your acquaintance, Jim Kirk. Are you a cadet?" Gaila asks with an unwavering smile.

"Not nearly, but close to," Jim says.

"Ah, but I would like to see what you accomplish here. Your cerebral inquisitiveness speaks volumes to your evident adeptness," Gaila notes. "What are your scholastic expectations?"

"I'm gunning for the command track. Nothing really set in stone but I would like to captain my own ship one day," Jim admits as she bookmarks the page she's currently on before closing it. "How about you?"

"Varying life sciences, mostly as they pertain to space psychology," Gaila chirps proudly. "I believe you Humans phrase it as a 'shrink'."

Jim smiles a little. "Yeah, we do. How long have you been here?"

"I have already received and completed my undergraduate training, and now have plans to attend all graduate classes in my field of study. I expect to achieve my doctorate in the next five years," Gaila clarifies.

"Well good luck to you in all your endeavors," Jim says earnestly.

Gaila presses a green hand to her chest, looking touched. "Thank you for saying as much. I wish you the same. May you have achieve your desires and have lots of children in the process."

Jim huffs out a short surprised laughed before she shakes her head. Since she knows that Gaila means well, she replies, "Thank you, Gaila."

Gaila nods eagerly. She says, "I was just on my way to meet another companion of mine before I became completely enamored by you. She also happens to share living space with me on the campus grounds. We enjoy sitting down for lunch and relaying our day by far. Would you like to join us?"

Jim considers it. She looks back at the stacks of books and checks the time on her communicator before she nods with a shrug. "Yeah. I could eat. I should eat," she supposes, thinking mainly of what Bones would say if he were around. She grabs some of her books and thanks Gaila profusely when she lends a hand.

Together they walk down to the checkout desk. All of Jim's books are put away in a nylon tote bag that the library supplies her with for free since it's her first time being there. They make their way over to the Academy cafeteria. It's pretty crowded for it to be hitting three o'clock, but Gaila explains that it's the time when most cadets find the time between classes to really sit down and eat.

Jim grabs a tray with two tuna salad sandwiches on a croissant, some blue jello, a banana pudding cup, and some pre-sliced oranges (she has a specific craving for them).

Gaila eats a bowl full of some suspicious looking, purplish taupe colored wing-slug _things_.

Jim shudders and tries not to watch Gaila eat it because it does not look the least bit appetizing.

"You should join the Academy Debate Team," Gaila suggests and slurps really loudly on her next wing-slug.

Jim makes a face but grins. "That's an idea, but, I don't really think that's my thing."

"All the same. It is a great way to connect with your fellow peers as I have come to learn," Gaila supposes happily. She perks up suddenly, looks at something over Jim's shoulder, and waves.

"_God, _sorry. I know I'm running kind of behind. We can all thank Commander Decker for that," a perturbed female voice complains.

Jim grins a little as she watches the source of that voice set her tray down between her and Gaila, and she can instantly place the face. She can't help but to throw on her most flirtatious smile and purr, "Fancy meeting you here."

Uhura stiffens in the middle of squeezing some ranch dressing over her salad and lifts her gaze over to Jim. She blinks in surprise before it extinguishes into cool indifference. "Kirk," she bites out. "Please tell me you're not going here."

"What's with the harshness?" Jim guffaws dramatically and slaps a hand over her chest with feigned hurt. "As I recall, I defended your honor once upon a time."

"No, no," Uhura corrects and straightens. Her high ponytail makes her look as gorgeously pristine and patronizing as ever. "You were defending _your own _honor. Right after you mad a sad attempt to get into my pants. Did you know I was verbally chastised by my academic advisor for being involved with that little fiasco when Giotto and his thickheaded thuggish friends tried to press charges on me since _you _weren't around?"

"Huh." Jim ponders that thoughtfully before she looks over at Uhura from under her blonde lashes. "Well you have my sincerest apologies. If Cupcake and his band of idiots didn't ruin the palpable chemistry we clearly had, then I guarantee you would've remembered me much more fondly." She adds a wink.

Uhura bristles. "Don't make assumptions. I'm not easy like you," she snaps.

Jim scoffs and can't deny the little spark of anger that unfurls in her gut at that. "Shouldn't judge a book," she mutters but Uhura has already dismissed her.

"Did she try any of her lame pick-up lines on you?" Uhura asks Gaila. "Don't let that pretty face fool you—she attracts trouble. I knew it the moment I met her and I should've listened to my gut and steered clear."

"Be nice," Gaila admonishes, patting the back of Uhura's hand placatingly. "And you should know that I was the one who propositioned her."

Uhura's mouth pinches unhappily.

"Jim Kirk really is good company. You should give her a chance," Gaila suggests.

"Yeah," Jim drawls, just to watch the way Uhura tenses up when she speaks. "Give me a _chance_. In fact, you can start by telling me what your first name is. Never did catch it."

"Never _did_ intend to give it," Uhura curtly replies as she stabs her fork into a cucumber slice.

Jim snorts and goes back to eating. It's obvious she's not going to get far with Uhura.

"Something has upset you. I refuse to believe it has to do with your memorable first encounter with Jim Kirk," Gaila reasons. "What is it? What has Commander Decker done this time?"

"Nothing," Uhura mutters and doesn't look up from her salad. "Can we talk about it later?"

"Very well," Gaila sighs and sends her dorm-mate a disapproving look. She turns her eyes back to Jim with a smile. "Jim Kirk, I thank you for your company. I hope you will consider my proposal for companionship in the future. Perhaps we will meet again."

Jim rewards Gaila with her best show-stopping smile. "Please, Gaila, call me Jim. The pleasure was mine too."

Gaila beams before she stands with her tray. "Uhura, you and I will convene later and you shall recount your troubles to me. In the meantime, I ask that you be civil in my stead. I must hurry off to conjugate with my fellow debate team. Good day to you both."

Jim watches Gaila maneuver her way through the crowds with a flirty smile that doesn't fail to turn heads. She pops a piece of orange in her mouth and briefly thinks about kissing Bones. She pushes the thought away as she watches Uhura.

Uhura ignores her for a solid seven minutes before she lifts her eyes and frowns. "What?"

Jim grins and says, "You're apart of the track team. Commander Decker is your coach. He's a little too free with his hands, isn't he?"

Uhura stares at her with surprise before she looks at Jim with that same level of cool indifference. "You couldn't possibly know that," she decides.

"Trust me, sweetheart," Jim laughs and Uhura scowls. "I know a lot about men who like to sexually objectify the female form just because they're in high seats of power. I recognized that obvious frustration rolling off of you in waves when you first came. I think you and I have some things in common."

"Do we?" Uhura smiles coldly. "I don't think so."

"So what do you think then?" Jim calmly questions. She can only take so much willful rudeness before she responds in kind.

"I think, _Kirk,_" Uhura really draws out her name with such blatant contempt that the sound of it makes something sour in Jim's mouth and she knows what's coming next. "That you're a flirty, party girl, who takes no accountability for your actions or the repercussions of them. You're cocky and selfish. I think your spoiled and used to getting your way. I think you'd have no idea what it really means to have to struggle and work your ass off twice as hard as anyone else. I don't think you're very bright and I don't think you're here for the same reasons that everyone else is, never mind who your father may have been." She shrugs. "You don't fit, and I'd rather you keep your distance because I'm having a hard enough time as it is. I'm not going to sleep with you and I'm not going to be your friend. So spare me of your company." With that being said, she picks up her tray and disappears.

Jim snorts bitterly and shakes her head. What should it matter anyway? Its nothing she hasn't heard before. All she ever seems to be to most people is just a pretty face with a vaguely familiar last name. This sort of thing used to really grind her gears when she was younger, but now it doesn't even faze her.

Nope.

Not at all.

Jim floats like subdued liquid across the campus grounds, passing by all those wandering cadets that don't spare her more than three glances because honestly she is just another face and she has no problem with that. It's nearly five and she still hasn't heard anything from Bones so she goes to collect Joanna from daycare. It certainly says something about the way her heart warms and fills up until her whole chest feels full of indescribable feelings when Joanna beams and runs to her with open arms.

Joanna is a very happy toddler and as she squeezes Jim's legs in a tight hug, some of that joy rubs off on her. She pulls away and waves at Ms. Juniper and her classmates before devoting all her attention to Jim like there isn't anything else that could possibly matter more.

Jim smiles as Joanna curls both of her small hands around her left hand. "You have a good day, little duck?"

Joanna nods hastily as she plays with Jim's ring. "We learned about the planetary system of the Ferengi Alliance."

"Oh? What is it?" Jim asks as they exit the building.

"Well, um, there's Clarus and Ferenginar and Hupyrian and Irtok and Lappa IV and Volchok Prime," Joanna lists and peers up at Jim for confirmation.

"Very good. You named them all," Jim compliments and pinches Joanna's right cheek gently. "You're such a cute smarty pants."

Joanna giggles. "I'mma duck and a princess and a captain too!"

Jim playfully whacks her own forehead. "Of course. How could I forget? You're just so awesome with like everything that it's hard to keep track of all the awesome things."

"You're silly," Joanna says and presses close. "Where are we going?"

"To the park, if that's okay with you," Jim replies and smiles when Joanna claps her hands excitedly.

The playground, like most things, is within walking distance. Since it's later in the day, it's not overtly congested with kids of varying ages, which is why Jim is completely comfortable with following Joanna around from the swings to the seesaw to the merry-go-round to the slides and to the monkey bars. Joanna just soaks up Jim's attention like a sponge and appears to be overjoyed that Jim is willing to play with her.

It's nothing of an inconvenience for Jim because she really is just a big kid at heart.

They do one last round on the swings before they head back to the apartment complex at the behest of Bones, who calls Jim to let her know that he's there. When they get there, they find him lying facedown on the couch, looking utterly exhausted and slowly slipping into unconsciousness.

Jim laughs because it's funny and adorable. "What'd they do? Make you swim laps through quicksand while juggling fire?"

"Ha, ha," Bones grumbles, face partially mashed against a couch pillow. "No I didn't, but I would have preferred that over the things they had me do." He grunts when Joanna climbs up on his back and curls up between his shoulder blades as she strokes his damp hair. "M'fine, Jo," he quietly assures, probably sensing her concern. "Tired is all."

Jim sits down on the floor by his head and curls her fingers around his wrist since his arm is hanging off the edge of the couch. "I'm curious now. What _did_ they make you do?"

"Things," Bones murmurs as he closes his eyes. "Lots and lots of things. Like dealin' with all those idiots that found their way to the health center because of their inability to just take proper precaution. I ain't talkin' just the cadets either, some of the instructors are none too careful either. Hell, they all came through because they either wound up breakin' an arm durin' a trainin' exercise or fracturin' their ribs because of a flight simulator. You know they don't have a head physician there? Just a bunch of cluckin' RN's and some ill-trained med students. It's a miracle anybody has survived this far. None of them have a clue of what their doin'."

"Bet you charmed the pants right off of Pike with your blatant foreknowledge," Jim supposes with an amused grin.

Bones snorts but he doesn't open his eyes. "He wasn't the one assessin' me, though he was there. He had some visitin' CMO evaluate my level of foreknowledge. Guy by the name of Dr. Mark Piper."

"Piper, huh?" Jim echoes and makes a mental note to look the man up when she gets the chance. "So what did _he _think about the way you handled being thrown in the lions' den."

Bones laughs and peeks a bleary eye at her.

Jim tries not to preen under his attention.

"He gave me kudos," Bones says as he takes a moment to study her face. "But he said my bedside manner left a lot to be desired, though, he supposed my type of orneriness had a certain charm to it. Pike added that he thought it might help keep the health center emptied of injuries if they had a healthy dose of fear of it's residing head physician. So they mutually came to the conclusion to give the job to me."

"No way," Jim says as she perks up and clamors onto her knees to face him.

Bones just grunts but he's looking at her with an indecipherable expression. "Told them both that I'd think about it."

"What? Why? It pays doesn't it? Not that I'm saying we need the money because I know your secretly rich and whatever, but it would look good on your academic record and you could use the experience, not with the Humans though because you got us down pat but like with all other species. Plenty of them go here."

"That's a good point and all," Bones says. "But between that and classes, there's not much room leftover for much else."

"Yeah," Jim agrees—barely. "But maybe you can work something out. I mean, Pike knows you've got other things going on—"

"My family," Bones supplies with amusement and Jim pretends she isn't blushing because he's referring to her and Joanna and the baby.

"—the point _is _that negations can be made," Jim continues, ignoring his interruption and the warm feeling winding around her heart. "Maybe you can bargain for days off. Like no Wednesdays and weekends off. We can work out the rest, and plus, we agreed that we'd consider putting Joanna in some of those club programs."

Bones says nothing but he looks like he's considering it (albeit tiredly).

"Listen, just think about it. Give it a year, and during that time, you can train someone else for the job as a backup for if it doesn't work out and you want to bail," Jim suggests. "But I have complete and utter confidence that you will find the balance between work and—" She can't work her way up to saying family. "—your personal life with no problem. Right, little duck?"

Joanna, who has been quiet so far, says, "Do your best, daddy. We'll still love you no matter what."

Bones lips curl into a fond smile and he reaches up behind him to pat her cheek affectionately.

Joanna smiles, grabs that hand, and kisses it before she kisses him on the cheek as well. She wrinkles her nose. "You stink, daddy."

Bones just grunts and drops his hand to the floor.

Jim snickers and gives him a noogie before she stands. "Get up and go hose yourself down. Stop stinking up my couch," she playfully scolds.

Bones slaps the side of her leg as he heaves himself up, catching Joanna from falling when he does so. "I though it was _our _couch."

"Nope. Everything in this apartment is mine. If you look hard enough, you'll find my name initialed everywhere," Jim teases and steps back to watch him lower Joanna to her feet on the floor.

"Does that go for me too?" Bones says with playful heat in his eyes.

Jim flushes because even though that idea appeals to her very much she'll never admit it. "Just go get clean, boring man. I'm ordering a pizza because none of us are making dinner tonight."

"I can make soup, momma," Joanna protests.

"Rain check on that, Jo-Bear," Jim says and aims both of her pointer fingers at her. "What's wrong with pizza though? Don't you like pizza?"

Joanna shrugs. "Can we get pineapple and ham? That's me and daddy's favorite."

Jim makes gagging noses and Bones bites at the curve of her shoulder in rebuke. "Ugh, fine. But I'm getting my own personal pizza and you weirdoes can eat your weird pizza all weirdly." She shoves Bones's face away when he tries to kiss her and fights back a smile. "Hit the showers. I'm not saying it again cause your daughter is right, you stink."

Bones huffs and swats her on the ass before he wanders off to their room.

Jim goes a little pink and swears at him. What is it with him and spanking?

"Momma, you said a swear," Joanna points out primly and climbs onto the couch with the remote. She forgets all about in a heartbeat because she's laughing loudly at a television show themed to funny home videos from all across the galaxy.

Jim fishes her communicator out of her back pocket and goes hunting for a local pizza place with the highest ratings on her PADD. When she finds one, she orders two large pizzas (one for her and one for Joanna and Bones), and grabs the nylon bag full of books she dropped by the door and carries it into her room.

Bones is still in the shower and she can hear the water running, as well as his attempt at humming some song she can't recognize.

Jim settles down on her stomach in the middle of the bed with an array of books spread all around her body, all open to specific passages she finds particularly interesting and worthy of further investigation.

Bones wanders out of the bathroom sometime later with a towel wrapped around his waist as he uses the other to dry his hair. He's all hot and glistening and wet and muscly and stupidly devastating to her concentration. He snorts and says, "Stop glarin' at me. I did what you and that daughter of mine told me to. I'm clean."

"You're distracting," Jim corrects in a spitefully whiny tone.

Bones lips curl into a smirk and she _should have never_ said that. "_I'm _the distractin' one, huh?" He tosses the towel in his hands into the clothes hamper before stalking to the bed.

"No!" Jim warns and scrambles to her knees. "I'm totally on to something here and you and your stupid hot body have no business tempting my healthy libido and—and—and—this is _exactly_ why I'm pregnant now."

Bones stops right at the edge of the bed and crosses his arms with an amused grin.

Jim lifts her hands and puts them on his chest and she totally means to push him in another direction but she somehow ends up feeling him up. "Just—um…" she's trails off but she has a point and it's somewhere and she can find it if she just concentrates hard enough and seriously, when does he even find the time to work out? "You, uh—I just—not, um—_now. _God, not now, okay? Joanna is very awake and out there and so not now. Plus, pizza!"

"Pizza?" Bones echoes and he's definitely amused. "Right, where _are _my priorities?"

Jim punches him in the chest and ignores the way he hisses and shies away. "Don't make fun of me," she warns.

Bones grabs a pillow and swats her on the side of the head with it before he slips on some pajama bottoms.

Jim sticks her tongue out at him as he joins her on the bed and pulls her into his lap. She goes willingly but still whines, "What? What do you want?" like she's being majorly inconvenienced.

"What's all this?" Bones merely asks as he indicates to all the books taking up most of the space on their bed.

Jim shrugs and grabs the forensic psychology book to continue on where she left off. "Just a bit of light reading. Cybernetics. Astrophysics. Quantum Chemistry. Non-Relativistic Quantum Mechanics. Tactical Analysis. The Prime Directive."

Bones slowly lifts a brow. "_That's _what you call light readin'? Jesus, I got a headache just from hearin' the names of them," he says, sounding impressed and looking at her like she's more fascinating than he could have ever imagined. "I knew you were smart but—you hold back a lot, don't you?"

Jim feels exposed all of sudden and she looks away, staring down at the book in her hands but not really absorbing the words. "Doesn't matter," she mutters. "I'm just a pretty face and no one likes to look beyond that."

"Hey, where's that comin' from?" Bones says and he seems offended on her behalf.

"Nothing, it's just something that's always been true," Jim supposes and tries to sound indifferent.

"I refuse to believe that you being anythin' less than extraordinary is true," Bones grumbles and he twists her around so they're face to face. "You ain't got to prove nothin' to nobody," he swears. "Not to me or anyone else in this universe."

"Yeah, okay, Bones," Jim says a little defensively. She hates these kinds of conversations because they just focus on her insecurities and she'd rather pretend she doesn't have any. "Like you didn't used to think the same when we first met."

Bones frowns. "I thought you were a damn fool for lyin' out there in the sun like that, but no, Jim, I never questioned your intelligence."

Jim presses her lips together stubbornly.

"You ain't got to prove nothin' to nobody," Bones reiterates, like he really needs her to understand this. "If you meet an asshole, because there's bound to be one or two of them out there, that makes you think you do, fuck 'em. You're one of a kind, Jim, and ain't no use in changin' what doesn't need to be changed in the first place."

Jim turns her head away and doesn't say anything.

The doorbell chimes.

"Pizza's here," Jim mutters and moves off his lap.

Bones sighs but he slides off the bed and stands.

Jim waits until he's in the doorway before she says, "Bones." He pauses and looks at her. "Thank you. For what you said. Thank you. You're a real softie, you know that?"

Bones snorts and waves her off but there's no mistaking the grin he exits the room with.

Jim smiles to herself before she eyes all the open books on the bed.

Uhura's parting words dissipate from her mind and she shoves off the bed to join Bones and Joanna at the kitchen table.

She feels oddly appeased.

Like she belongs.

888

**STARFLEET CORRESPONDENCE  
>STARDATE 225008.22<br>CAPTAIN CHRISTOPHER PIKE VIA USS KELVIN  
>JAMES T KIRK OF STARFLEET ACADEMY<strong>

_Ms. Kirk,_

_My ship's been commissioned for an assignment I will not go into great detail about, but I suspect we'll be out of touch for an undetermined length of time. Meanwhile, I've taken the liberty of compiling together your fall semester class schedule. As you may note, it is light, but that's because you've tested out of most of the preliminary first-year seminar courses, though I never doubted you would. Your aptitude tests speak for themselves. Which is also why I've petitioned the Academy board to allow you to complete your observation hours during the semester since you were unable to do so in the past summer, and because you tested out of our highest course of mathematics, it was unanimously decided that you would serve as a TA under Commander Spock for his Advanced Quantum Physics classes. You'll also serve as a tutor for those of his students who are unable to comprehend the overall coursework. Because both you and Dr. McCoy have shown exemplary capacities in nearly every subject matter as it pertains to your discipline of choice, the academic board has waived your tuition fees for the extent of your time at the academy as long as you continue to perform commendably._

_Please report to Commander Spock's office Monday morning at 0600 hours for further instruction in regards to your apprenticeship._

_I look forward to hearing nothing but positive reports so don't think I won't be keeping tabs on you just because I'm off-world. _

_Congratulations, and good luck._

_Sincerely,  
>Captain Pike<em>

_P.S. I seem to recall that today is Dr. McCoy's birthday (or so I've noted from his file). Give him my well-wishes, and remind him to enjoy his youth while it lasts. ;)_

888

**Monday – August 25th – 6 a.m.**

Jim yawns as she drags herself to the science and mathematics building with the enthusiasm of a catatonic zombie. It can't be helped, really. She's spent all weekend going all out for Bones's birthday because that what best friends do. Joanna and her had basically spoiled him beyond reasoning by cooking for him and baking for him and hanging on his every word. They took him out to different places like bowling alleys and skating rinks and a horse ranch located a few miles outside of San Francisco. He really appreciated that last one and spent three nights showing Jim just how much he did. That's probably Jim's favorite part about Bones's birthday weekend. That and the way it didn't take much to keep him smiling.

Bones has a gorgeous smile when he lets himself relax into it.

Jim and Joanna go above and beyond for this ordinarily grumpy man. He did deserve it after all. Ever since he accepted the position as head physician in the Academy's health center, he's been working all sorts of odd hours (even hours that sometimes dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night). And while he doesn't seem to hate it, it was still obviously paying its toll for the first couple of weeks. He just recently got the hang of it all and has managed to amaze Jim with his total Zen-ness. She kind of finds it hot actually, though he's always hot when he's confidently working in his own element.

Anyway, Jim is pretty tired from all the birthday excitement and amazing birthday sex, and she is _not_ looking forward to any interaction with Commander Spock. The fall semester starts next week and she hopes that there is barely anything that he'll need her to do. Short and sweet—that's how she likes it.

Spock is already sitting behind his work desk when she arrives in the doorway of his office because of course he is. He's Vulcan and Vulcans are exceptionally punctual. He probably thinks _she's _late, even if by a few seconds.

Jim clears her throat and waits until he looks up at her before she says, "Permission to enter, sir?"

Spock inclines his head and stands as she approaches him. "Cadet Kirk. You are prompt." She could swear that he sounds surprised but his facial expression looks like its carved in stone, and it's _still _intimidating, so she can't really be sure.

Jim ends up shrugging as she takes another sip of her (iced) green tea because it's the closest thing to caffeine that she's allowed to have. After two swallows, she says, "Should I not have been? I can always take a few laps before I'm acceptably tardy."

Spock lifts a brow but his face gives nothing else away. "I must confess that the complexity of Human humor still escapes my comprehension," he states flatly.

Jim shrugs again. "At least you can recognize it," she points out.

"Indeed?" Spock replies and his inflection doesn't change. It's kind of weird. "I am given to understand that you have been made aware of your assigned apprenticeship to me," he pauses and waits for her to confirm, which she does with a nod. "Very well. We shall begin with a discussion of what I expect from you, as well as what as I expect from my students as a whole."

Jim makes a sloppy gesture for him to continue as she sits down on the chair on the other side of his desk.

Spock sits as well, picks up his PADD and continues, "It has become evident to me that your mathematic proficiency is within the ninety-eight point thirty-four percentile. That is above average, even by Vulcan standards."

Jim hides her grin behind her cup of tea. "That almost sounded like a compliment," she points out amusedly.

"It is only logical to give credit where credit is due," Spock merely states. "I have yet to encounter a cadet whom I find worthwhile. Therefore, it is only conceivable to presume your apprenticeship shall undoubtedly be sufficient for both parties."

"Okay that was definitely a compliment," Jim says and doesn't bother hiding her smile.

"If you wish," Spock says but his neutral expression never wavers. "If you will allow me to continue—"

Jim mimes zipping her lips.

"—I have taken the liberty of forwarding a virtual almanac to you of my anticipated lectures," he continues, ignoring the gesture.

Jim fishes for her PADD in her handbag. When she finds it, she pulls up said timetable and looks it over. "Wow," she murmurs as she studies the different colored blocks filling up each day of each month for the whole of the fall semester. "You are _literally _booked every moment of every day."

"It is efficient by Vulcan standards. We are far superior at multi-tasking than most species," Spock explains. "Will this present a problem for you?"

"Uh, no," Jim says, even though she's not sure. "I'm sure I'll adapt."

"Indeed," Spock murmurs as he studies her before lowering his gaze. "You will be in attendance for all lectures marked by grey blocks. In-class preparation is expected of you, as I will be busy with other matters. If you will review my transcribed syllabus, you will be able to familiarize yourself with my teaching methods. Every six minutes at the beginning and end of the lesson, I permit a brief intermission for inquiries, which will now be directed towards you. Are you amenable to this?"

Jim nods. "Yeah, it's cool. It's just a good thing that I'm not one of those people who suffer from stage fright."

Spock looks slightly perplexed.

Jim realizes he doesn't get the reference. "Never mind that," she says, waving it off. "Um, so, here's the thing. I don't know how much Captain Pike told you about me and my situation, and while I respect that you have a certain way that you like to do things and have things in a certain order, I also hope that when I make a mistake, which I'm sure there will be some, you'll remember that I am doing my best. And at the same time, I do need you to understand that I am very pregnant, and I have another little girl that depends on me. So with that being said, I'll need snack breaks, as well as meal breaks, and bathroom breaks. I have monthly prenatal appointments that I can't miss so I'll need to be pardoned on certain days."

"Very well, I shall acclimate to those requests to the best of my ability," Spock says as though it isn't an inconvenience to him.

Jim's standing opinion of him is quickly shifting in his favor. "Well, I appreciate that. Most people wouldn't be so accommodating."

"I believe you will find, Cadet Kirk, that I am unlike 'most people'." Spock shifts his attention to his PADD. "As we move forward, I would like for us to begin to sort through the student index so that we may learn more of the cadets expected to be in attendance."

"Right," Jim says with a sigh as she straightens. "Are we going in alpha order?"

"If it conveniences you. It makes no difference to me," Spock replies, agreeably enough.

For the next three hours, they work in tandem, making notes of each cadet that is assigned to his classes. They study their academic profiles and give their expectation of that student's success rate a wide berth. They then separate them into groups by these statics and make assigned seating out of the results.

Jim would have never thought that teaching took this much effort or consideration. It gives her a new respect for teachers everywhere.

Spock certainly appears to enjoy what he does, not that one could tell but Jim just kind of picks up on it in the way that he pays grave attention to each student's academic scores and formulates each of his lesson plans based on the indicating factors he picks up from them. Once she sees past that cold and unflappable exterior of his, she understands that he's not as strict and rigid as he would have everyone to believe.

Jim stretches and looks at the clock on the wall behind Spock. It's nearing noon and she's getting hungry. "Do you mind if we pause?" She stands and stretches. "Would you like to go get some lunch?"

"Negative. I require no nourishment presently," Spock declines as he fixes his gaze upon her. "However, I urge you to procure the proper sustenance. Your stomach has made an audible indication that you require it."

Jim blushes a little and presses a hand to her stomach, and sure enough, it rumbles again. "Yeah, uh, maybe you'll join me next time. I'll suffer sitting by myself this time around."

Spock lifts a brow. "You do not strike me as an individual that experiences difficulty attaining company."

"There you go with the compliments again," Jim says with a grin. "Careful, Commander. I might start to get the idea that you like me."

"That is a sentiment unfamiliar to Vulcans," Spock coolly replies before he lowers his gaze. "If you depart now, Cadet Kirk, you will be able to return promptly in twenty minutes."

Jim snickers and grabs her handbag on the way out. She can take a hint.

The cafeteria is not nearly as crowded as it could be, which means short lines.

Jim grabs a tray filled with a bowl of vegetable rice soup, a pineapple smoothie, and a green apple. She sits down at an empty table and tries to drown out the general noise of the cafeteria as she eats and starts going through her own personal copy of _Starfleet General Orders and Regulations_, highlighting the parts she deems the most important.

"Excuse me, miss," a voice says, loose with an Irish accent. "D'ya mind a bit of company?"

Jim glances up and looks between two male cadets. One is tall and lean with broad shoulders, coiffed hair and a very charming smile that befits a very handsome face. The other is almost as tall as him, dark-skinned with a buzz cut, and a infuriated scowl that makes Jim want to reconsider her initial answer.

The grinning cadet notices and says, "Ah, don't mind him. He's just in a tuff about something. I promise we're harmless, and good company to boot."

Jim shrugs and keeps a straight face.

They take that as the invitation it is and they sit down.

"Name's Neil Finnegan," he introduces with a cocky salute. "The fellow to my left is Richard Ayers."

"Jim Kirk."

"Lovely name," Finnegan compliments. "So, what're you then? New? You must be because I'd remember a face like yours."

"New," Jim simply confirms.

"All good. Dick and I are upperclassmen," Finnegan admits.

Ayers bristles and glares at him. "Ay, man! I told you not to call me that. You do it again and I'll break your goddamn nose."

Finnegan just waves him off. "Listen, Ms. Kirk, I don't want you to think we've come to bother you or court you or any nonsense like that. I just remember what it was like my first time here and having no one to sit with. Just think of us as sentinels."

Ayers snorts angrily as he jams some fries in his mouth. "Man, you corny. She don't wanna hear all that." He looks to Jim with a smile. "Don't mind nothing this dude says. He's got all the wrong things loose in his head."

"Smarter than you," Finnegan sings as he eats his club sandwich. "How're you liking the Academy so far? Need us to tell you what classes to take or what instructors to avoid?"

"I think I'm good," Jim says amusedly, but then reconsiders. "Just for later reference, who should I avoid?"

"Commodore John Gill," says Ayers immediately, and Finnegan makes a sympathetic sound. "He teaches InterPolitical Science and he thinks he's God's gift to interstellar relations."

"He's way too cocky," Finnegan adds. "He's got this book, the—what was it again, Dick?"

Ayers glares at him but responds, "_Protocols and Regulations of Interstellar Movement and Exploration_."

"Yeah, that. It's a good read and all," Finnegan supposes. "He makes some good points. He's very tough, but also compassionate and amazingly perceptive."

"In real life though, he's as stubborn as a mule," Ayers points out. "He'll fail anybody who doesn't align themselves to his beliefs. And don't even _think _about disagreeing with a single word of his lecture."

"Really?" Jim says and makes a face. "Well that's unreasonable."

"That's Gill," Finnegan and Ayers chime simultaneously, like it's a thing, like it's a saying.

"Oh, well, good to know. Who else?" Jim says as she sucks away at her smoothie.

"Admiral Royal Kobayashi," Finnegan says and shoots a sly glance towards Ayers.

Ayers is glaring down at his double cheeseburger like he wants to set it aflame just by sheer mental will.

Finnegan laughs and pats his friend on the shoulder. "Dick's had some hard times with him. That's what had him in such a twist earlier."

"What class does he teach?" Jim asks, curious.

"He don't teach a class, per say," Ayers grumbles.

"It's more of a thing to do with a mockup," Finnegan clarifies when Ayers refuses to, obviously frustrated beyond words. "He's the creator of the Kobayashi Maru—a notoriously challenging command simulation."

"Kobayashi Maru," Jim repeats, testing the name on her tongue. Something about it peeks her interest. "Tell me more about it."

"Easy there," Finnegan laughs with bright eyes. "You wont have to be worrying about it until the end of your junior year and the beginning of your senior. Hold on, are you even on the command track?"

Jim nods to confirm.

Finnegan looks intrigued. He looks to Ayers. "What can we say about that ole Maru?"

Ayers's expression turns thunderous. "It's a dirty cheat of a thing. It's unfair and an absolutely humiliating experience," he swears. He takes a furious bite of his burger.

"Honestly, we're not supposed to talk about it as is. The conditions are supposed to be secret," Finnegan says with a wink. Then he lowers his voice to say, "In the simulation, you and a crew of your choice are typically presented with an exceptionally difficult command decision: to save a colony of helpless humans from death. _But_ you must risk proceeding into the restricted space beyond the Neutral Zone between Romulan and UFP territories. Once there, you'll encounter an overwhelming enemy force where you will either be destroyed or forced to surrender."

Jim waits for him to add more but he doesn't. "Wait—that's it? That's the only options? Surrender or die?"

Ayers scowls and says, "The exercise is purposefully unwinnable, and you have absolutely no possibility of surviving the game. I've failed it _three times_ before one of my professors let me in on the joke."

"That's absurd," Jim decides as she finishes the last of her soup and keeps an eye on the time. She'll have to leave soon, and she doesn't want to because things are just starting to get interesting. "Why would they make it impossible to beat the odds? Why not at least allow room to compete and lose in a fair fight? That's just absurd. I don't get that."

"No one does, that's the thing about it," Ayers supposes. "Something to do with accepting defeat or what have you."

Jim snorts bitterly. "I don't believe in no-win scenarios," she remarks.

"You best start then, Ms. Kirk," Finnegan says. "Cause the time's gonna come when you'll have to face it the way we all have and you're gonna understand what it's like to _have _to accept defeat."

Jim just hums before she stands. "Well boys, thanks for keeping me company, but I have to run along now."

"Class?" Finnegan asks.

"Not quite. I'm interned to Commander Spock."

Ayers coughs on his next bite of burger. "Commander Spock? _The _Commander Spock? The very Vulcan that made Neil here cry his eyes out during his sophomore year when he was taking his Advanced Phonology class?"

"Uh, I don't know anything about all that, but yes, I suppose _that _Commander Spock," Jim replies.

Finnegan's cheeks burn with a deep red as he glares at his friend. "You damn bastard, you swore you wouldn't bring it up anymore!"

"Dude! But it was the most epic thing since that whole dog fiasco between Scotty and Admiral Archer. And besides, you broke down in public! It's not exactly a closely kept secret," Ayers points out unrepentantly. "My condolences, Ms. Kirk. I heard he's a—tough one."

"Nah, he's fine," Jim says with a shrug.

Ayers scoffs like he doesn't buy it and Finnegan frowns very doubtfully.

"You just have to get on his good side," Jim suggests as she gathers her things together.

"Well, I'm supposed to be in his Advanced Quantum Physics course this fall. Think you can put in a good word for me?" Ayers semi-pleads.

Jim snorts and it suddenly clicks why his name seemed so familiar. She'd seen his name on the roster. "No promises, but I'll see what I can do. I'm still trying to get him to fully warm up to me as is," she says before she hikes up the strap of her handbag onto her left shoulder. She quickly pulls out her communicator to check the time. "Listen, I think you guys are cool and we should hang out some more and continue our conversation about who I should avoid some other time."

Ayers nods and Finnegan gives a half-smile.

They exchange comm links before Jim scuttles back to the science and mathematics building. Just as she approaches, she nearly bumps into a twig of a boy. He looks like he's someone's lost kid, possibly one of the professors, but oddly enough, he's sporting the Academy red.

"Ah, sorry," he gushes with a thick Russian accent and wide eyes. He reminds her of Bambi almost. "So sorry. Please to forgive."

"No it's fine," Jim quickly assures and rewards him with a disarming smile.

He flushes and swallows. "Please to excuse," he squeaks before he scrambles past her and out of sight.

"Huh," Jim says before she enters Spock's office. He's still right where she left him. "Who was that?"

"A former student of mine. Pavel Chekov," Spock replies with that indifferent tone of his. "His mathematical proficiency is nearly equal to your own."

"Ha, yet another compliment. You must like him too," Jim says as she throws her bag down while she curls up in the seat across from him.

"I must reiterate that Vulcans do not—"

"Blah, blah, denial of emotions," Jim interrupts and waves it off because it's getting old at this point. He'll probably be doing that a lot in the future. "You said he was a former student. Why'd he stop by?"

Spock pulls his gaze away from his current project. He studies her face for the extension of six seconds and Jim feels oddly like some complicated equation he's never encountered before. "He wished to extend his gratitude for the proposal I submitted to the academic board on his behalf in regards to his consideration for the Starfleet Graduate Grant, which he has appeared to have acquired."

"Wow," Jim says. "That must have been some proposal."

Spock doesn't comment on the matter.

"I swear, the more I get to know you, the more you just seem so very gentle," Jim teases, just to watch the way Spock lifts an eyebrow. "You're like a total softie, aren't you?"

Vulcan's don't sigh but Spock gives a distinct twitch that indicates maybe he wanted to.

Jim laughs. "Okay, okay. I'll stop teasing. Just tell me this one thing."

Spock looks at her expectantly.

"Is it true you made a cadet break down in tears during one of your classes?"

Spock stares at her unblinkingly, and remarks, "To which cadet do you refer?"

"Oh my _God,_" Jim says and marvels at him. "Have there really been so many that I literally need to give a first and last name?"

Spock continues to appear indifferent but there's an indecipherable _something _in his dark eyes. "During my time on Earth, I have ascertained that Humans are unable to receive any form of criticism with solemnity."

"We're all weeping babies, huh?"

"I do not believe that is an accurate analogy," Spock says with a frown. "Though one would argue that the sullen disposition of most cadets does leave a lot to be desired."

"Whoa, slow down, Commander. I'm starting to think you're developing a sense of humor," Jim dryly states but she is kind of amused.

"Cadet Kirk, I ask that you do not insult me," Spock merely replies.

Jim laughs and she can't say why it's so funny. "You do realize you have a bit of a reputation?"

"It concerns me little."

"Yeah, I figured as much."

Spock says nothing.

Jim knows she should leave it alone, but she can't help but to jokingly ask, "Are you going to make _me _cry? Should I be prepared for that?"

"It is never my intention to solicit an emotional response," Spock reports and he seems vaguely exasperated. Vaguely. He's masking it very well. "Nonetheless, it would appear my position does not afford me the same courtesy."

That subdues Jim well enough. "Sorry. Just—sorry. I'm not trying to—just forget I even brought it up," she says.

"There is no need to apologize," Spock ensures bluntly. "I am aware you are not being deliberately offensive. It is of no consequence." He leaves it at that and sends her out on an errand.

Jim spends the next two hours fussing with a photocopy machine until it spites out multiple double-sided copies of syllabi. Thankfully, when she brings it all back to Spock, he dismisses her for the day.

She gets to go home and tell Bones all about it.

Bones is unhelpfully amused throughout her entire narration.

888

**Three Weeks Later**

This is how Jim's weekly schedule goes:

On Mondays and Tuesdays, she gets up bright and early with Bones and they decide between them which one of them will drop Joanna off at daycare, and if they get up early enough, sometimes they do it together. If they do it together, sometimes this means they get to sit down in the Academy cafeteria for a hurried breakfast before they part ways.

She acts as Spock's TA from six in the morning to six at night. She sets up and cleans his classroom before each class. She writes out the equations he wants on the whiteboard and that's mostly for the students benefit. If they solve it or even describe the origin of it, they get a bit of extra credit for it. Jim's usually in charge of determining which cadets have earned it and which haven't.

In the beginning, when the semester had started, there had been a constant reaction of surprise to Jim's presence. But at least they eventually warmed up to her quicker than they did to Spock, and they never hesitated to bombard her with questions whenever Spock opened up the floor for them to do so. After a while, they all grew accustomed to her and willingly petitioned her help. Sometimes, on odd days, Jim will bring two-dozen cupcakes to each class and pass them out because she's awesome like that.

Spock finds her methods strange but he doesn't question this habit because even he has to admit that it has a positive effect on the cadets and the way they retain the knowledge they're being given. And sometimes, when she feels like he'll concede to it, she brings him a small box of special order cupcakes made of lemons and limes and grapefruit and generally any sour flavor that any Vulcan would find appealing.

Is she trying to butter him up? Yes. Yes she is.

Jim would like to think it's working, and as a result, she has some sway with him.

When she's all done with that whole affair, she goes to pick up Joanna from daycare and take her to either her ballet lessons, or karate lessons, or linguistics class (she's learning both Vulcan and Universal Sign Language). Jim's allowed to stick around and watch if she doesn't have anywhere else to be. They're only hour classes and at the end of them, Jim takes Joanna back to the apartment where Bones is usually waiting for them with dinner.

On Wednesdays and Thursdays, she gets to sleep in a little bit longer.

Bones and Joanna are usually long gone by the time her alarm pries her from bed. These are the days she has classes from ten in the morning to eight at night. She attends four classes (eight overall between two days) and they are all just mandatory courses that no one can really test out of. She finds one or two of them boring, and she never runs into anyone she personally knows, but that's just the way of things.

Outside of classes, however, she finds herself sometimes sitting down with Finnegan and Ayers for lunch or a brief study date. Other times she lets Gaila drag her to some of the debate team meetings or to some kind of campus affair/mixer. When she thinks she can get away with it, she visits Bones while he's working at the health center and he usually lets her hang around and be a nuisance until he has to chase her out because her next class is starting or because she's being a general distraction to him.

She's on good speaking terms with at least six of her professors, and she does what she can about the other two. She's at the top of all her classes so far, but it's still too early in the semester to label it as anything substantial. But needless to say, she's pretty exhausted by the time she finds her way back to the apartment, and she usually stays awake long enough to eat, and give Bones and Joanna as much of her attention as she can spare with what little energy she has by that point.

On Fridays, she's usually booked up with tutoring sessions. She does that from noon to nine, and each tutoring session is about an hour. Some of her tutees are pretty cool, while the others either try to hit on her or try to bribe her into bribing Spock into giving them a good grade. Lucky for them, she has the patience of a saint and she kindly tells them that she has no problem with letting them fail because of their own ignorance. They usually shape up pretty quick after that and life goes on.

Her days of rest and relaxation is pretty much on Saturdays and Sundays, and even then not so much because she has homework to do, papers that Spock expects her to grade, required reading that needs to be done, and so on and so forth. It's a challenge at first, of course it is, but Jim's a quick study and she's able to get into the groove of it after the first week.

Speaking of getting into the groove—she's about fifteen weeks along by this point and starting to show. Not in a major way, but her face is getting a bit fuller and she does have a small baby bump that Bones loves to ogle from time to time. Though she can't really talk because sometimes she stands in front of a mirror and ogles it herself.

Joanna is getting especially touchy and grabby. If it isn't obvious that Jim's pregnant then Joanna makes it so because she uses every opportunity she can get to kiss Jim's stomach or talk to her baby sister (whom she's so excited to meet) or offer up the baby names she likes the most.

Jim finds it sweet if not endearing.

But this the way of things.

This is what her life has become.

Currently, it's a Thursday night (six o'clock) and Jim's been holed up in a private study room since her last class of the day got canceled. She's polishing off the dissertation for her InterPolitical Science class, which is due next Wednesday, because it's just her luck that she would land herself in Commodore John Gill's class at the behest of Captain Pike. Of course it's only been three weeks, and she has yet to feel any particular way about the man, but she figures this dissertation will kind of be a deciding factor for his opinion of her. The assignment is to compare early 20th Century diplomacy to Starfleet's current policy of interstellar relations.

_"As we have already seen in the incidents on Sherman's Planet and at outposts in the Vero Nebula, Starfleet's policy of non-interference as mandated by the P.R.I.M.E. Directive can sometimes be counter-productive to the interests and well-being of the planets in our Federation. It is both dangerous and reckless to propagate—" _Jim types onto her PADD._ "—a policy so clearly unsuited to the times in which we live. Therefore [in the future] selective application of unilateral pressure or even direct force against seemingly benign or harmless civilizations will undoubtedly be necessary for stability and strength as we move out into the cosmos. A lack of timely communication over vast distances may be used in the future as a practical excuse to absolve Starfleet of the "rogue actions" of commanders who were incapable of consulting higher authority before acting."_

Jim sighs as she looks over that last paragraph one final time before she concedes to the fact that she has outlined her argument to the best of her ability. She knows that the subject she's raising at hand will probably invite a strong backlash on moral grounds, as well as a series of complex ethical questions. She's sort of blatantly questioning Starfleet's rigid and long-standing policy of human non-interference in the affairs of other races.

Jim snorts a little as she thinks about the benefits of having Spock proofread her dissertation and giving her useful feedback. It only takes her five minutes to really consider it seriously before she's forwarding it to him and asking for his opinion in her general obnoxious way. She knows he'll unwillingly reply with a few rejections before it morphs into eventual consent. When that's all said and done, she stretches with a yawn and begins to dog ear all her open books before packing them up and carrying the books she has yet to checkout in her arms.

She gets one foot out the room before she collides into another body with a soft '_umph_' and the books she's cradling in her arms go sprawling all over the floor around her feet. She closes her eyes with a sigh and reigns in her temper before she gets on her knees and starts to collect them.

"_You,_" a livid voice says and Jim recognizes it all too well. "Goddamn, _you_."

Jim lifts her eyes up to Uhura, who is standing with her hands on her shapely hips and glaring down at her with utter contempt. "Okay—what did I do this time?" she says and continues to pick up her books.

Uhura doesn't make a move to help, even though she's the one that bumped into her. She says, "What don't you ever do? God, can I go one day this year without you turning everything upside down for me?"

"You're going to have to elaborate," Jim says between clenched teeth. She grabs the last book and stands, blowing her long bangs out of her eyes so she can see Uhura clearly. "What exactly did I turn upside down?"

"You know that little apprenticeship you have with Commander Spock? _I _was up for that. In fact, he personally requested me," Uhura hisses. "But somehow, and who ever knows how Jim Kirk manages to manipulate things, but somehow you got it instead. Do you know what that would have done for my academic record? Do you have any idea how hard I worked to earn that spot?"

"I have a vague notion," Jim mutters.

"Blood and sweat," Uhura continues, ignoring the comment. "Commander Spock is one of the most respected instructors in all of the Academy. That apprenticeship would have opened _vaults_ for me, but you get to glide right on in, late as the day is long, and _wahlah_—you get it, just like that."

Jim scratches the side of her nose. "Look, I really just feel like you have it out for me and I can stand here and make apologies for any and everything, whether or not it is my fault, but I don't really think it would do much good."

Uhura scowls and crosses her arms. "I just want to know why this? Why this one thing? Is it a revenge thing for you? Or do you like to play games?"

Jim huffs out a tired laugh and shakes her head. "Are you hungry?" she asks.

Uhura blinks and frowns. "What?"

"Are you hungry? Have you eaten? Would you like to eat?" Jim patiently clarifies.

"Please don't joke with me, Kirk," Uhura angrily begs. "I am up to my neck in frustration. I have been doing everything I can to make sure I can succeed and make the most out of this education because I can't afford to treat this like one big vacation. I have always had to give a hundred and fifty percent because anything less than that is just unacceptable. I'm working two jobs to afford the tuition here because I've only been given so many scholarships and grants that don't even cover the full cost and I can only keep them if I continue to show academic excellence and I can't do that if I'm competing with you for everything."

Jim can hear the distressed irritation in Uhura's shaky voice and she can read it from her tense shoulders. "I'm not asking you on a date. I just think that you should hear my side of things, and we can really talk and hopefully move on to something better. I just really feel like this whole thing is just one giant misunderstanding so—if you haven't eaten and you would like to eat, I'm inviting you to have dinner with me back at my place. Please."

Uhura hesitates and she narrows her eyes with vague suspicion before she straightens. "Fine," she curtly decides.

"Okay," Jim says and moves to walk towards the elevators since they're on the fifth floor. "I just need to check these books out and we can walk from here."

Uhura says nothing. She just quietly follows her.

Jim shoots off a quick text to Bones.

_*FYI bringing some company over. Okay by you?_

Bones replies right while she's in the middle of checking her books out.

**_**Fine by me. We've got enough food to feed an extra mouth. I'll make lasagna._**

"You like lasagna?" Jim asks as they cross the campus grounds and head towards the apartment complex.

"It's fine," Uhura merely says and follows her inside. She looks around curiously with a questioning frown. "Do I want to know why you live in the same building as Commander Spock?"

Jim blinks as she jabs a finger at the elevator call button. "He lives in this building?"

Uhura looks at Jim like she's an idiot. "This is the building that houses all Starfleet instructors," she points out.

Jim just hums because she did forget. It's not like she runs into anyone she knows. She's never run into Spock, that's for sure—but that was good to know for future reference (mostly she'll probably bug him for her own amusement if anything).

They climb on the elevator when it comes and travel up to the third floor where Jim's apartment is.

Jim punches in the entrance code and relaxes instinctively.

Bones and Joanna are sitting on the living room floor while they eye the tower of Jenga blocks built up on the glass table.

Jim drops her messenger bag to the floor with the frown. "Hey, what'd I tell you guys about playing that on the glass table. Come on."

Joanna giggles and quickly climbs to her feet so she can run to Jim. She latches onto Jim's left leg. "Hi, momma! I told daddy you wouldn't like it but he didn't want to listen," she reports.

"Jo, you're supposed to be on my side," Bones complains as he stands and makes his way over. He nods politely to Uhura and offers a hand. "Leonard McCoy."

"Uhura," Uhura responds and shakes his hand with a confused frown. She glances between the three of them and Jim can tell she's doing a bit of math and calculation in her head to comprehend what she's seeing.

"Do you not tell anyone your first name?" Jim asks, amused.

Uhura cuts her gaze to her and lifts a finely arched brow. "That depends," she says and doesn't clarify. She's still being a bit defensive but some of her usual cold has thawed.

"Momma," Joanna says, yanking on the hem of Jim's uniform skirt. "Momma, can you make me a smoothie?"

"In a second, little duck, but you're being rude. Introduce yourself," Jim says.

Joanna's green eyes widen contritely and she turns to Uhura. "Sorry. My name is Captain Joanna McCoy." She points proudly at the badge pinned to her blue t-shirt.

Uhura smiles and crouches down to be eye level with her. "Very honored to meet you, Captain." She gives a neat salute.

Joanna beams and echoes the motion with less grace before she turns back to Jim with hopeful eyes as if to say, 'See? I did good and just like you asked. Smoothie now?'

Jim snorts and pats Joanna affectionately on top of her head. "Give me a second, and I'll make it for you," she promises.

"Kay," Joanna chirps and turns to Uhura. "Ms. Uhura—would you like to play the Jenga with me? Daddy has to start cookin' and I don't wanna do it by myself."

Uhura looks to Bones and then to Jim as if to ask permission and when Bones nods, she says, "Sure. But you have to teach me how to play because I don't know how."

Joanna nods eagerly and grabs Uhura's hand to guide her over to the living room.

"Not on the glass table. I don't want it to crack," Jim says before she turns to Bones.

"Isn't she the one—"

"Yup."

"Huh." Bones glances over at Uhura thoughtfully before he looks to Jim again. "Go get yourself settled and then come help me cook."

"What?" Jim groans. "But I'm tired," she whines.

"This is _useful_," Bones argues. "You can't survive off of junk food when I'm not around to cook for you."

"I'd like to disagree but I know it wouldn't matter so I'm gonna go pee and change," Jim decides and tucks away in their room to do just that. She reappears in some pajama shorts and a t-shirt that fits snuggly on her. She doesn't care because she's home and she's allowed to dress how she wants (despite company) and it's not like she's trying to hide her pregnancy.

Bones has her brown the meat and they work in tandem in the kitchen. He steps into her space and guides her through it all, putting his hands on her hips, or on her wrist to guide her stirring, or on her lower stomach to feel for the baby. He likes to be real flirty whenever he's teaching her to cook, often stealing kisses when she least expects it or is distracted, or sometimes he'll whisper things in her ear that has nothing to do with the dish they're preparing.

Jim likes it. Mostly because it's Bones and because it helps her remember things for future reference. But as is, she's even more aware of how they behave together because she can feel Uhura's curious gaze burning up her body and the unsaid questions are obvious.

The lasagna is ready to be pulled from the oven an hour later, and the four of them sit down at the kitchen table with their plates filled with lasagna, salad, and garlic bread.

Joanna is sitting quietly in her booster seat and generally ignoring everyone and everything that isn't edible and located on her plate.

Jim allows herself the first plate, and when she has Bones fix her second one, to Uhura, she says, "The apprenticeship with Spock was just a happenstance. I tested out of their highest level of mathematics and since I was behind on my observation hours, Captain Pike, who is my direct academic advisor, thought it would be best to place me in that position so I could make up for lost time. But, in saying that, I do apologize if that's inconvenienced you and I just want you to know that I'm not trying to purposefully piss you off."

Uhura nods slowly as she eats with as much poise and grace as a queen.

"Also—I recall you saying some very hurtful words to me that I'm not holding against you in any way. But it does bother me, as it would anyone, that you have this whole image and perception about me that I don't agree with. I am selfish in some ways and I am spoiled in some ways, but I've never for once, for a moment, for a _second_, ever, ever, _ever_ had it easy," Jim goes on to say. "I'm not going to go into detail about that and I don't want us to sit here and start a pissing contest about who's had it harder and the struggle and whatever. But respectfully, at the same time, I can appreciate your frustration and why you might be frustrated because I've been there too. You know, adult to adult, woman to woman, I just want you to know that this doesn't have to be a competition. Why can't it be like me doing what I can to help you and build you up and then you turn around and do the same in the way that you're able?"

Uhura swallows and says, "First off, I want to apologize for those hurtful words and my behavior. It was totally uncalled for and I do agree that I could have handled it better. I kind of have a temper and when it gets going then that's when my mouth gets me in trouble." She pauses to smile self-deprecatingly. "I also, you know, really respect the fact that you were a bigger person than me in this situation and you took the time to try and mend things. I know a lot of people would not have done the same. They would've wrote me off like, 'Hey, she's crazy, and she needs anger management, and let me avoid that'. But you didn't and I feel really bad about how I've been treating you. I know I can't blame other people for my circumstances but, and not using this as an excuse, um, I've come from like a sort of impoverished background and that situation didn't change until after my parents enlisted with Starfleet and even then it was still a struggle. So I'm at a place where I'm used to really going hard and fighting for the things that I want. Success hasn't been easy, and even more so as a woman. I know you can relate to that, because as women, we have it twice as tough, even still now, and we're in the 23rd century and the issues are still there. So I do agree that as women we should band together and lift each other up and not make it a competition because change does start here and now and with us and our generation."

"Right on," Bones chimes. "Everyone should just smile. Life really ain't that serious. We make it hard. The sun rises. The sun sets. We just tend to complicate the process."

Jim snorts and slaps his chest before she shakes her head fondly. To Uhura, she says, "I accept your apology and I'm sorry for the trouble I caused when we first met. I'm glad we got that all sorted out, and just know that if you ever need anything like a warm meal or a study buddy or anything, I'm happy to do that for you."

"Same here," Uhura promises genuinely. "And I have to ask because I'm curious and nosy—are you expecting?"

Jim nods. "I'm about…" she trails off to think before she looks to Bones. "What am I?"

"Four months," Bones supplies.

"Do you know what you're having?" Uhura asks as she finishes up her food.

"Girl," Jim says and shoves another forkful of salad in her mouth.

"What's your focus?" Bones asks.

"Xenolinguistics as it applies to spatial navigation, duotronics, and cryptography," Uhura replies. "How about you?"

"He's a doctor. So he's attending the post-graduate medical academy," Jim answers before Bones get to.

Bones snorts. "Thanks, because I couldn't answer myself," he snidely remarks.

Jim just tosses him a sarcastic smile that he rolls his eyes at.

Uhura watches them amusedly. "How long have you two been married?"

Jim flushes and sputters.

Bones gets real smug for some reason. He says, "That's a good question. Refresh my memory, Jim. How long has it been? Feels like years by this point."

Jim kicks him under the table and he jolts with a muttered swear. She ignores him as she primly replies, "We're not married."

"Not yet," Bones mutters. "But give me time. I'll talk her into it."

Jim kicks him again.

"Stop kicking me," Bones complains. "It was joke."

"I don't believe you," Jim mumbles.

Bones just shrugs.

Uhura smiles and says, "You're really cute together. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you."

"Well what about you?" Jim says, ready to change the subject because if Bones looks any more insufferably smug than he already does, she might reach over and strangle him.

"Nothing to report," Uhura assures and checks her wristwatch before she stands. "I have to get going. I don't want to miss curfew. Thanks for the meal."

"Curfew? No way is there curfew," Jim says with a doubtful frown.

"There is for the first years. It's different for you I think because your living situation is different. I don't think it applies," Uhura supposes with a graceful one-shouldered shrug. She turns to Joanna and says, "_Rom-halan, ang'jmizn_." It's Vulcan. "_Dif-tor heh smusma_."

Joanna beams and replies (like the little genius she is), "_Amsetri tre. Sochya eh dif._"

Uhura gives her a gentle smile. "_Shaya tonat_."

Bones starts clearing the table and cleaning the kitchen.

Jim stands to walk Uhura to the door.

Before Uhura completely exits, they exchange comm links, make an arrangement to have lunch next Tuesday, and leaves things at that.

Jim makes Joanna the smoothie she promised and they curl up together on the couch to watch a short movie.

Joanna keeps one hand pressed to Jim's small baby bump while she holds her smoothie in the other and sucks it down.

Jim strokes her fingers through Joanna's soft, wild curls.

Bones joins them halfway through the movie when he's finished cleaning and he sits down on Jim's other side, pressing close until his arm is wrapped around her shoulders while his hand drifts down to her stomach to join Joanna's.

Jim feels warm and content between them, and with that much comfort, she drifts off in no time, her head lolling on Bones's shoulder as the TV drones on.

_This must be what it feels like, _she thinks dreamily. _To not feel lonely._

888

[Spock's response to Jim's forwarded InterPolitical Science paper goes as followed:]

**STARFLEET CORRESPONDENCE  
>STARDATE 225009.18<br>COMMANDER SPOCK VIA STARFLEET ACADEMY  
>JAMES T KIRK OF STARFLEET ACADEMY<strong>

_Cadet Kirk,_

_Your attempt to relay the exercise of intelligent forethought and of decisive action in advance of any likely crisis is sufficiently executed. _

_However, it is apparent that the moral arguments you raise are likely beyond your capacity to argue at present, and as such, you meekly steer around them. It is also clear that you invite criticism, yet deflect the invitation of such by exhausting imperfectly understood precepts found in Baruch Spinoza's 1677 tome 'Ethics' in an impulsive endeavor to justify the notion that "might is right"._

_You state that you believed that Spinoza had quantified virtue and power as equals, and as such, consider that actions are their own justification. I propose that you reread 'Ethics' a little closer. Greater minds than your own have misinterpreted Spinoza's philosophy over the years, but very few continue to believe that he was proposing the equation: Force = Good._

_Nevertheless, the dissertation does not ignore the potential interstellar political ramifications of a policy that could (and would) be clearly read as exactly what it is: a muscle flexing display meant to intimidate – and occasionally punish – "inferior races". For that, I commend you. _

_Please bear in mind that, though you make your regard of stoic fearlessness in the face of immense odds blatant, it is evident that passivity is not in your nature, and therefore you should be obliged to distinguish that ambition without compassion provides hollow rewards._

_Overall, I urge you to reassess the definitive message you are striving to conduct, and be prepared for the disparagement your "quintessential thinking" will provoke._

_Commander Spock_

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>_Most of ya'll don't never review, like, come on, and writing this stuff isn't easy. I deserve a little more than a one-word comments. Give me something to think about! Thanks for reading in any case._

_Also, credit goes to the EtherBase portal's 'All Our Yesterdays', the newly published biography of Star Fleet Admiral James T. Kirk (2233-2293), in regards to filling out what Jim might have been doing during the Academy years and so on and so forth._


End file.
